


Like the Ones I Used to Know

by sunshineflying



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8927014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshineflying/pseuds/sunshineflying
Summary: Michaela asks everyone what their plans are for the holidays, and that's when it really hits them: not many of them have loving families to go back to for Christmas. The plane tickets to Michigan that Connor bought for Oliver are going to go to waste, except this is Asher's first Christmas alone and he's not handling it well - so Connor invites Asher instead.What happens when Connor brings home a different boy for Christmas?--[current up through episode 3x09 including references to who was under the sheet. spoilers abound]





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into writing How to Get Away With Murder fic! This ship has been stuck in my brain since I started binge watching from season one about three weeks ago... and the realization of what their Christmas would be like brings me to writing this fic! It's a whole lot of Christmas fluff wrapped up in silly boys and a little bit of denial, with a happy ending because we don't get that much on this show.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, primarily because I wanted to get this out there for you all in time for the holidays (and so I could post before I left town for the holidays). Any and all mistakes are my own, and I apologize.
> 
> Here's hoping you all find this as enjoyable to read as I found it to write, and happy holidays to all, no matter what you celebrate!
> 
>  
> 
> **After some feedback, I have made some edits. Hopefully this helps.**

 

It had begun with a simple enough question. Michaela had asked everyone what their plans for the Christmas holidays were. It's just that most of them... well, they didn't have a family to go back to, like Asher. Or if they did, they weren't fond of them, like Michaela and Laurel. Connor felt guilt bubble up within him at that. After all the things they'd done and lies they'd told and bodies they'd tried to hide, he still had a loving family to go back to. People he looked forward to seeing year after year, even if he'd told them Oliver would be joining him this year and now he wasn't. Not to mention Asher and Michaela had just broken up, so it was an awkward question all around. There was a lot of wincing involved as they all shared their answers.

The pain on Asher's face, though, that had hit Connor like a knife to the heart. Of all of them, Asher was the only one who involuntarily didn't have a place to go this winter. Plus, there were plane tickets originally meant for Oliver that were burning a hole in Connor's pocket, figuratively speaking. Even though when they'd first met, Asher was a total dork and Connor swore he never wanted anything to do with him, the guy had grown on him.

So, it was time for Connor's good deed for the year. And it wasn't out of pity, not really, because Connor wanted someone to join him for the family Christmas in hopes that fewer people would give  _him_ pity for not having Oliver anymore. Hopefully. Maybe.

Now that the fire had displaced them from working at Annalise's office, they often had to find other places to work. Connor had noticed over the past few days that Asher frequented the coffee shop down the quad from where they had class. He never bought anything, because most students didn't and Connor knew for a fact that Asher was pretty broke right now, but he sat and he studied and he did all the tasks Bonnie told him to in order to keep Annalise's firm running as much as possible after her arrest. But ever since that Christmas conversation, Asher's looked a lot more downtrodden than usual. And Connor can't explain it, but he wants to fix that. So, so badly.

After their last exam, Connor leaves the building shortly after Asher, and watches him go, like clockwork, into that cafe. Only this time Bonnie hasn't given them any assignments and they're done with the semester, so Connor isn't entirely sure what Asher will be doing there. He follows, at a safe distance, so it doesn't seem to stalker-y. He's had time to think about this, about bringing Asher back to Michigan with him for Christmas, and he knows it's what's right. Connor has so many fond memories of his childhood from this annual family get-together, and he has a sneaky feeling that the sort of Christmas the Walsh family has is exactly what Asher is used to. And if not? Well then, it sounds like the very sort of thing Asher would like. Which. Connor's not really sure when he started thinking about what Asher would like, but it's a thing now.

He spots Asher in the coffee shop, and he's pleasantly surprised to see him with glasses on his face and a book in his hand. Asher looks to be concentrating hard, but Connor still plans to approach him. It's cool though, that he reads. It's not shocking, but Connor still has to face the fact that he'd just assumed a guy like Asher wouldn't read much, which. Dick move. Connor takes a deep breath and digs into his bag before he adjusts it on his shoulder and approaches the table where Asher's sitting, book propped up in front of him. He drops an envelope in front of Asher as he stands next to the table, and waits for a reaction.

Asher picks up the envelope gingerly and looks it over, front and back, before he asks, “What’s this?”

Connor sets down his bag and sits at the table, facing Asher, trying not to make too big of a deal out of this whole thing.

“Plane tickets. To Michigan.”

Asher raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That’s where I’m from,” Connor explains.

There’s a lot Asher could say to that, the least of which being _I know_ , because unlike the others, he pays attention to his friends. But he doesn’t understand why Connor is giving them to him. “Why?” he asks, hoping for some sort of vague explanation for it, at the very least 

“I’m not going to lie to you. They were supposed to be for Oliver. But… Oliver doesn’t want me. And… Christmas isn’t the time of year to spend with people like that. So. I thought maybe…” Connor sighed. “Maybe you’d want to come with. I know it’s lame or whatever, but…”

“Yeah."

Connor paused. “Yeah like, it’s lame? Or yeah like you’re coming with me?”

“Both?”

It takes a moment for Connor to realize that Asher just accepted one of the kindest things Connor’s ever done for anyone, ever. He takes a deep breath. “I know it is. But like…" 

“Just promise it’s not out of pity, okay?” Asher says, brushing off whatever excuse Connor was about to mumble to him.

Asher looks so earnest, so vulnerable, that it catches Connor off guard. He swallows hard. He doesn’t know if it’s out of pity or not. Connor knows that he usually doesn’t do things without an ulterior motive. But this time – maybe he just doesn’t want to go back alone. Maybe he just doesn’t feel deserving of a family, but his friends are. Asher is.

“It’s not out of pity,” Connor nods. “I promise.”

He still doubts himself, but Asher is content with the answer, so. It works.

 

\--

 

The flight is pretty boring, like most flights are. Asher takes the window seat, which is fine because Connor got that for Oliver anyway. It’s fine if Asher takes it. Connor sleeps through the flight, for the most part, because exams kicked his ass. He’s shocked he passed, with everything that’s been going on in their lives. The plane lands late, around nine at night, and Connor has a rental car waiting for him at the gate. Once upon a time, Asher would have been unfazed by this. It’s the same kind of life he used to lead, having things handed to him because his parents were successful. But when he doesn’t have these luxuries anymore, it’s hard. He doesn’t smile. He puts his bag in the trunk, shivers in the cold, and gets into the passenger seat.

The snow is worse in Michigan than it is in Philadelphia. Asher stares out at the road as the snowflakes fall down ahead of them in the glare of the headlights. Connor drives through it like it’s nothing.

When they pull into the drive, it’s not what Asher’s expecting. The house is big – grand – with Christmas lights everywhere, a big tree in the window, and lights still on. His family is still awake.

That’s the one thing he hadn’t really considered: that he’d be meeting Connor’s family. More than that was the possibility that they’d mistake him as Connor’s boyfriend, because, well, Connor is gay and he’s bringing a dude home for Christmas 

Connor is grateful that pretty much everyone is in bed by the time they walk through the front door. It’s just his sister Gemma and her husband Roger, and they’re putting a cork in a half-finished bottle of wine. Gemma’s expression lights up as soon as she sees Connor, and she beams as she wraps him up in a hug right away. “Oh my god, is this him?” she asks, smiling over Connor’s shoulder as she hugs him.

“No,” Connor sighs, leaning back.

Asher’s standing awkwardly in the doorway, his bag by his feet and snowflakes melting onto the shoulders of his jacket. Gemma breaks the hug looks Asher over before she whispers to Connor, “He’s cute anyway.”

Connor rubs a hand down his face and sighs. “It’s a long story,” he says, pretending he didn’t hear Gemma’s comment about Asher being cute. That didn’t matter. Not even if Connor agreed. Which he doesn’t, because. Well, Asher’s a dork.

“Can I get you guys some wine?” chimes in Roger from the doorway between the kitchen and foyer. He holds up the bottle.

“Nah, it’s been a long day,” Connor sighs. “I think I’m just going to go upstairs. My room open?”

Gemma smiles. “Hayden wanted to steal it away but I talked him out of it,” she says. “It’s all cleaned up and ready for you and… your friend.”

“Asher,” Connor says. “His name’s Asher. We work together.”

Gemma glances from Connor to Asher and then back again, and something in her eye says she doesn’t believe her little brother. “We’re talking about this later,” she says softly, with a smile. “Be quiet when you go up. Hayden and Sophie just fell asleep. 

“Yes mother,” Connor rolls his eyes.

“Watch your mouth Connor, or I’ll go wake her up and set her on you _right now_ ,” Gemma warns, amusement on her face.

Connor fights a smile as he turns around to grab his bag. “Come on,” he says to Asher, nodding up the stairs. “And seriously. Be quiet. If we wake up the kids they’ll never go back to sleep.”

Asher nods dutifully and follows him up the stairs and down the hall. The house is amazing – it’s like what Asher grew up in, but better – and he tries not to stare too much at the pictures on the walls… the pictures of young Connor, so innocent, so sweet, so happy. They walk into the room at the end of the hall and Asher’s not really sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

Floor to ceiling, the room is blue, with blue blankets and drapes and everything. On the walls there are a few pictures, mostly just pictures of guys – pages pulled out of magazines like you’d expect from a teenage girl. There’s a desk, still messy and filled with notebooks from high school. “So, my whole family’s here so we have to share. I promise not to like, cuddle you.”

“It’s cool, dude. We’re friends. I trust you.”

Asher closes the door behind him and sets his bags off to the side. He shakes off his jacket and looks around, commenting, “Nice place.” He drapes his jacket over the back of the desk chair and stuffs his hands in his pockets as he faces Connor.

“It’s my parents’ place, it’s no big deal,” Connor brushes it off like it’s nothing. Asher is quiet, and Connor realizes the sting of his words. “Sorry.”

“It’s cool.”

“No, it’s not,” Connor says. “Seriously.”

It’s awkward and uncomfortable, and Connor feels suddenly way more exposed to Asher than he expected when he’d first invited him. He wasn’t having second thoughts, it was just… different. Connor has never brought friends over.

And his stupid sister pointing out that Asher was cute definitely wasn’t helping matters. “Look, don’t worry about me, okay? Like, I appreciate you even bringing me here, so,” Asher says. He lays down his suitcase and opens it up. “Can I shower? I feel all gross and airplane-y. 

“Yeah. Down the hall. And remember,” Connor begins.

“Be quiet, I know,” Asher nodded. “Not going to wake up the kids.” _Kids_. That was so weird to him. Connor plus kids doesn’t equate in his head.

“Towels should be in the cabinet behind the door,” Connor adds as Asher walks out the door.

While Asher’s in the shower, Connor looks around his room. It amazes him how it never changes, but always feels different every time he comes back home. He looks at the lacrosse team photos, from back when he played sports in high school. He went to boarding school for most of it but every summer he’d bring his trophies and jerseys home and hang them up. That was when he’d met Aiden. Things were easier then.

Connor easily strips down, but he hates that he keeps thinking about how badly he’d wanted this to be Oliver with him. Asher’s a great friend but Oliver… Connor had been ready to introduce his boyfriend to his parents, but then it all ended so abruptly. The ache still settles in his chest every time he thinks about it, thinks about Oliver at all.

Connor changes into some flannel pants and a tee shirt and tugs back the blankets on his bed. It’s a decent size, at least, his queen sized bed. Plenty of room for the two of them. He remembers when he was younger, begging for a king size, but that’s where his parents had drawn the line. Maybe they were starting to suspect he was gay, at that point. They didn’t want him to have a huge bed to get up to trouble in. Even with all the lying he did, to make sure he could come out on his own terms, Connor thinks his younger years were an easier time. He misses that 

Asher comes back into the room just as Connor’s climbing into bed. “I didn’t wake the kids up,” Asher says, almost proud. “How old are they, anyway?”

“Hayden is ten, Sophie is eight. They’re my niece and nephew.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Asher says. He studies Connor for a minute. “So you just have the one sister? And she’s way older than you?”

Connor snorts. “She’s not _that_ old. But yeah. She’s eight years older.”

“Nice,” Asher nods. “My sister’s two years older than me. Not as fun being the baby of the family when she’s close to my age.”

Shrugging, Connor says, “It was always sort of a soft spot for my mom. They wanted the age gap to be smaller but like… miscarriages and stuff.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Asher’s studying Connor like a puzzle, like each new revelation is a miracle. Like he’s special for getting this sort of information out of Connor.

“I mean, it’s whatever. I’m here, right? So they got the second baby they wanted,” Connor says.

“Did you almost die, like the others?” Asher asks, and then winces. “Sorry. I didn’t phrase that right.”

Asher’s standing awkwardly in front of the door, and Connor is sitting comfortably against the headboard of his bed. “You know you can sit down, right?” he says, to try to diffuse the tension.

The room is dark, just the lamps by the bed still illuminating the room. Asher sets his laundry down by his bag and wanders over to the bed, his own plaid pants and tee shirt on. He sits on the opposite end as Connor but scoots all the way up to the pillows, settling into bed like it’s no big deal, lying in bed with a gay guy. Connor’s pretty sure that Asher’s the first straight guy to not mind sleeping next to him. He’s also not entirely sure Asher’s _straight_ but that’s a different thing entirely.

Connor settles into bed too, and switches off his lamp. He’s exhausted, but for some reason also wide awake – at least enough to feel like having this conversation with Asher. He never thought he’d have this conversation with anyone.

“I didn’t almost die, but I was premature,” Connor says in the darkness.

They’re both lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, conscious of the warmth the other is giving off just inches away. “I got sick a lot when I was little, too. Stupid stuff like ear infections or strep throat. I had to get tubes in my ears, have my tonsils taken out, and my appendix, and I broke my arm when I was seven. And then I went to boarding school and played lacrosse and it was different because being small wasn’t the worst thing in the world.”

“But you’re not small now. You grew into it,” Asher observes.

“Yeah, when I was like, fifteen,” Connor replies. “A little late.”

Asher’s quiet, as is Connor. They don’t know what comes next. Connor isn’t so sure he likes opening up, but if he can trust anyone, it’s Asher, because he could have embarrassed Connor and told everyone everything as soon as they walked through the door but he didn’t.

“Was that when you knew you were gay?”

It’s a strange follow up question, and Connor really wasn’t prepared for it, but he’s always had a feeling that this conversation would happen with Asher eventually. And since they’re not around the rest, and they’re in the dark, talking more to the ceiling than face to face, it doesn’t feel so intimidating or scary to answer.

Connor sighs, and then says softly, “I always sort of knew. But high school is when I started acting on it.”

“How did you know, though?”

Connor crosses his arms over his chest and thinks about how to answer this question. “I guess… I didn’t label myself as gay when I was younger but I’d notice the boys in class. I’d get really angry when someone would call a girl my girlfriend. I had no interest in talking to girls or looking at them. I thought I was just caught up in that ‘girls have cooties’ thing. But looking back I obviously knew it when I was younger. And like, going to an all-boys boarding school? My mom says she was shocked when I didn’t argue. My dad wanted to put me in a co-ed one but my mom said I shouldn’t because she heard about what happens at those places. Like you couldn’t sneak around and get in trouble at an all-boys school too. But yeah, that school was awesome.”

“And nobody cared you were gay?”

Smiling wistfully at the memory, Connor says, ‘No, not really. A few jocks freaked out thinking I’d hit on them but most… well, let’s just say that in high school I was the one guys experimented with.”

“Nice.”

Was it though? Was it really? Connor’s mind flew to the memories of getting tested with Oliver, of that fear and uncertainty after listing off how many people hed’d slept with, and how often he _wasn’t_ careful, and all of that. Was it really nice to sleep around with a bunch of guys? At one point Connor had been proud of all of his conquests, but now… Oliver had changed him. Now Connor didn’t find any satisfaction in sleeping with random strangers. It made him feel awful. Like trash, but worse.

Connor’s mind grappled for some way to change the subject, but Asher’s soft snores alerted him to the fact that it didn’t matter, because it was time to sleep. It wasn’t even that late, but after such a busy exam period and exhausting goings on in their personal lives, sleep was needed. He took a quick glance over at Asher, who looked content and comfortable in _Connor Walsh’s childhood bed_ , before curling up on his side and falling asleep, too.

 

\--

 

“Soph, it’s perfectly normal for two men to share a bed,” a gentle voice says from the doorway.

Asher wakes first, at the words, and peeks his eyes open to see that Connor is fast asleep across from him – or rather, sort of against him in the center of the bed. Their legs are tangled together. Asher’s not sure when that happened. Connor still looks fast asleep, so Asher closes his eyes again, pretending he’s not awake.

“Is Uncle Connor gonna marry that guy?” asks the small girl – Sophie.

“We don’t know, darling, but let’s let them sleep okay?”

 

The door latch clicks closed and Sophie’s voice gets softer as she’s dragged down the hall, but Asher still hears every word in the still silence of the morning. “I hope he does,” says Sophie. “I want to be the flower girl in Uncle Connor’s wedding but I can’t if he takes forever to get married. I’m going to be nine soon. That’s almost too old to be flower girl.”

As much as he knows he should probably scoot away from Connor in bed, he’s also realistic. He’s warmer this way, and Connor’s the one who scooted to the middle of the bed, so if Asher scoots away, he’s going to fall off the other side. So really, if he wants to get more sleep, he’s got to stay like this. He closes his eyes again, ready for a few more hours of sleep, and if his arm is more comfortable draped around Connor than it is held stiffly at his own side, well… Asher’s just going to say he was sleep cuddling. That he didn’t realize he’d done it.

The next time Asher wakes up, he’s alone in bed, and he wakes up because he’s cold now that Connor’s not pressed against him. He hears voices downstairs, smells cinnamon and bacon, and can hear the shower down the hallway running. Groaning, Asher rolls onto his back. He doesn’t really know what to think of last night, or how much he totally didn’t mind that he’d ended up cuddling with Connor. Did Connor wake up to that? Was he pissed?

Asher, a little paranoid, climbs out of bed and – just because he doesn’t want to be a shitty houseguest – makes the bed, too. He’s putting the last throw pillow on when Connor walks in, towel around his waist and hair damp and dripping on his shoulders. “Hey,” Connor says, wandering over to his bags.

“Hey,” Asher replies.

“Did you sleep okay?”

Asher nods. “Surprisingly, yeah. After… everything, I don’t always get the best sleep, you know?”

“Yeah,” Connor nods. He pulls out clothes for the day and says, “Mom made breakfast. Hayden and Sophie are already out playing in the snow. I ran into Gemma in the hallway and she warned us that we don’t have much time to eat before they drag us outside. Unless you want to just like… hang out up here? You don’t have to deal with my family, I know it’s probably weird.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m the best snowman maker ever. And you have way more snow here,” Asher says. “Your family’s way cooler than mine. I’m totally in.”

Connor looks away, because he’s actually smiling but doesn’t want Asher to know just how much he’s made his day. “Let me get changed and then we can eat and go outside,” Asher says.

He starts digging around in his bags for something that’ll be good to wear outside in the snow. He follows Connor’s lead, just putting on jeans and a warm sweater, and then follows Connor downstairs to the kitchen. The house is buzzing with people, and it’s only Christmas Eve. He can’t imagine what the full on Christmas Day celebration is going to be like if this is how joyous and warm the house is for the day before.

“Connor! Oh, sweetheart I’ve missed you!”

Right away Connor’s wrapped up in a woman’s arms – his mom, Asher figures – and he watches with a playful smile as Connor hugs her back, pushing away his tough, pretty boy demeanor to slip into his role as son. “Hey mom,” he replies.

An elderly looking man puts a cup of coffee in Asher’s hands, but keeps his gaze on Connor as he asks, “And who’s this young man you’ve brought with you?”

“Is this Oliver?” asks Mrs. Walsh excitedly.

Connor leans out of the hug, tight lipped and avoiding their eyes. “I’m Asher. We work together,” Asher says, hoping to take some of the pressure off of Connor.

“Oliver and I broke up,” Connor says simply.

“What did you do?” his mother asks right away.

Asher watches as the words hit Connor like a slap in the face, like they have done every single time someone’s asked him that question. It’s clear how badly it hurts Connor, that everyone just assumes it was his fault. “I didn’t _do_ anything. Oliver dumped me. He says he wants to be alone,” Connor sighs. “Where’s the coffee?”

He walks to the corner of the kitchen where there’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing. “Well, Asher, it’s great to meet you,” Connor’s mother says, though she’s still glancing worriedly at her son. “Won’t your family be missing you this Christmas?”

“Mom -,” Connor interjects.

“No, Connor, it’s cool,” Asher says, even though inside he hates that he has to talk about this. These are Connor’s parents though, and they’re opening up their Christmas celebration to him – a total stranger. He can totally give them an explanation even if it hurts. “My dad died and my mom thinks it’s my fault, so like, I’m not invited there anymore. I was gonna just chill in Philly but Connor invited me here.”

“Why would your mother think your father’s death was your fault?” asks Mr. Walsh curiously, as he takes his seat at the head of the table.

“Dad -,” Connor interjects again.

Asher’s quiet, where he stands in the doorway of the dining room. “My dad killed himself,” Asher says, the words hard for him to say. “My mom thinks it was my fault because the lady we work for, Annalise, was appealing a case that my dad served as judge for, and like, claiming he’d done some not so good things.”

“Connor, honey, is this why you never tell us what you do at work? Because this lady is wrapped up in some bad press?” asks Mrs. Walsh as she sits down at the table.

Gemma and Roger are sitting there too, but Connor is hovering in the doorway next to Asher. He’s not so sure this is going to be a pleasant breakfast. But hey, at least he’s got coffee. “It’s just probably all stuff that’ll bore you,” Connor explains. “And yeah there’s some bad press but she’s a good person. She’s teaching us a lot.”

“Yeah, like how to get away with murder?” Mr. Walsh jokes.

Connor and Asher force laughs while the rest genuinely enjoy the joke he’s made, referring to all those stories about Annalise killing Sam. “Well, boys, get some breakfast. No doubt the kids are going to want you guys to join them outside,” Gemma says, gesturing at them to leave the room and fill their plates with food from the stovetop. 

“So… your dad seems like a fun guy,” Asher says awkwardly as he takes a plate from Connor.

Sighing, Connor says, “They just…”

“Hey, don’t worry. It was a joke,” Asher replies.

Connor just nods and scoops himself a small pile of scrambled eggs. He doesn’t take much food, because he’s never hungry in the mornings anyway but this is a day where he’s especially not hungry. Asher piles his plate high, though, and instead of going into the dining room, Connor sits at the counter bar. “So everyone thought you were bringing Oliver home for Christmas, huh?” Asher asks, trying to change the subject.

“I’d told everyone but him. Which is a stupid move. Don’t ever do it. Surprises never work out how you want them to.”

Connor takes a bite of sausage and looks out the window at Hayden and Sophie. “That sucks man, I’m sorry,” Asher says.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Connor replies. “I shouldn’t be surprised at all, honestly. People don’t exactly look at me and think ‘monogamy’.”

“Dude, that’s not fair though,” Asher says, a bit defensively. “When I first met you, you like screwed people to get evidence. And now you’re telling me you were ready to bring one dude home with you. The same dude you lived with and stayed with even when you could like… die. You’re the most monogamous person in our group of friends too so like… give yourself a little credit.”

Connor studies Asher for a minute, and he really wants to lash out, confess that he screwed some barely-legal undergrads and Thomas out of spite, but he can’t. Because Asher has a point. When Connor was with Oliver, he was _with Oliver_. He didn’t sleep around. He was loyal. He still kept secrets but dammit, he was far more loyal than he ever had been before.

They finish eating in silence, and then Connor leads Asher to the mudroom. He chucks a hat over his shoulder at Asher, and some massive ski gloves. “Dude,” Asher grumbles, catching everything Connor lodges at him.

“You’ll freeze without a hat and gloves so just put them on.”

“But I have -,”

“Put away your leather driving gloves, you grandpa. You’ll ruin them in the snow,” Connor says. He puts on his own gloves and a fluffy gray beanie with a puff ball on the very top, and waits for Asher to bundle up.

Once Asher finally concedes and puts on a hat and gloves, and then his jacket, Connor gives him a once over. Asher’s cheeks turn pink at the weight of Connor’s gaze. “Put some boots on. We have like a million pairs over there, just pick one. You’re going to ruin your shoes,” he instructs 

Asher picks up on how dressing up to play in the snow is second nature to Connor, and how he likes being bossy. But it’s not an annoying kind of bossy like Michaela, it’s a ‘taking care of you’ kind of bossy that Asher finds totally not annoying. It’s sweet that Connor’s mentioning this stuff _before_ Asher is outside complaining. And it’s not like Asher doesn’t know how to play in the snow he just… hadn’t really thought they’d be going outside at all. He didn’t know Connor had a niece and a nephew, or such a big loving family. He’d just sort of assumed their little group was all miserable and family-less.

Once Connor approves of Asher’s mismatched snow gear, he opens the door and they walk out of the house to the delighted cheers of Hayden and Sophie. “Hey guys!” Connor says with a big grin on his face.

Asher stands back, letting them have a minute. He observes with interest, a bit surprised at how easy it is for Connor to shed all the bad stuff and all the sadness and put a smile on his face for these kids. They tackle him with hugs and it’s clear that he’s got a good relationship with his niece and nephew which. Interesting. Asher hadn’t been expecting that.

“Guys, this is my friend Asher, from school,” Connor says, turning to point at Asher.

That’s when Asher starts trudging through the six or seven inches of snow that’s accumulated on the ground to come say hello. “Hey guys,” he says with a smile.

“Are you Uncle Connor’s boyfriend?” Sophie asks unabashedly, her whole face lit up with excitement.

Asher pouts. “No, I’m not.” He gives big puppy dog eyes to Connor, who looks like he’s just been slapped in the face, and then back at the kids. “He’s just my friend. But he let me come hang out with you guys. Is that okay?”

“Yeah!” Hayden shouts. “We’re gonna make a snowman and then an igloo and then I wanna try to find the sled.”

“I _told_ you, Uncle Connor broke the sled last year!” Sophie says to her brother.

Asher snorts and raises an eyebrow at Connor. “They insisted I try sledding down the hill. Totally not my fault. It was icy that year.”

“He hit a tree and made his nose bleed,” Hayden explains through giggles. “It was _awesome_!”

“Oh my god that sounds amazing. Think we could talk him into doing it again this year?” Asher asks excitedly.

“No,” Connor says, trying to fight a smile.

“Yes!” Hayden and Sophie say simultaneously, full of excitement at the thought.

Asher grins at the kids and kneels down to be at eye level with them. “Sweet. So. We need a plan. How do we convince him to do it?”

The kids lean in and start planning in whispers with Asher, and it’s all in good fun and Connor isn’t mad at all, but he can be playful too. So he balls up a bunch of snow in his hand and with a smirk on his face, throws it with perfect aim so it hits Asher in the back of the neck. Asher shrieks and starts doing a dance as the ice and snow slides down his neck and down his back, a chilly cold against his skin. “Dude!” he shouts.

Hayden and Sophie are giggling like crazy and it’s the most fun Asher’s had in a while, laughing and playing with Connor and his niece and nephew. Asher’s crazy happy that he’s here in Michigan with Connor. He still can’t believe Connor invited him in the first place, but… that’s another thing entirely.

Hayden takes the snowball Connor threw as an invitation, and rolls up his own bundle of snow and ice to throw at Connor. “Yes! This kid is smart. He’s on my team!” Asher exclaims.

“Wahoo!” Hayden cheers as he jumps up and down.

“Sweet! I get Sophie!” Connor shouts in retaliation.

She cheers and throws a snowball at Asher, but it misses. “Ha! You can’t throw a snowball!” Hayden taunts.

“Hey dude, give her a break. She’s only eight,” Asher says, coming to her defense.

Sophie’s glaring at her brother and Connor can tell that she’s on the verge of tears. She hates being told she’s not good at something. She’s a perfectionist just like Connor, and needs something to boost her ego before she starts crying and goes inside to tell on her brother. “I bet if we gave her another try she’d get him, wouldn’t you Soph?” Connor says, kneeling down next to her even though the snow is cold and melting against his knee almost instantly.

“Yeah,” she says, her lower lip shaking a little.

“Give it another try,” Asher prompts. He stands right in front of her, about four feet away, arms spread out, ready for a snowball.

Connor grabs a big ball of snow and packs it together really well. “See? The trick is to press it together so it doesn’t fall apart when you throw it, okay? You try,” he says, nodding to the pile of snow she was standing in.

Sophie kneels down and does what Connor instructed her to, rolling up the snow into an uneven but large ball. “Now just look right at him and throw it, like this,” Connor says, demonstrating by throwing the snowball right at Asher’s stomach.

Asher exaggeratedly lets out a howl when the snowball hits him, and then looks at Sophie, ready for her to try. “Come on, you can do it!” he says with a grin on his face.

Sophie looks very determined, and bites her lip with her teeth as she focuses. She brings her arm back and lobs the snowball at Asher with so much strength she stumbles forward. It doesn’t fly very far, or very fast, but Connor guesses what Asher’s going to do right before he does it. Asher steps forward, closer to the snowball, and kneels down so it hits him right in the chest. “Oh no, you got me!” he shouts, flying backwards so he’s laying down on his back in the snow.

The look on Hayden’s face tells Connor that he knows exactly what Asher just did, and that he maybe doesn’t think it’s fair, but he doesn’t say anything. Sophie is giggling, and even though her eyes are still wet, she looks happy and proud of herself, which was the goal. Connor looks over at Asher, a genuine smile on his face, to see Asher smiling back at him. He feels warm, suddenly, and doesn’t know what to do with that.

Sophie launches a snowball at Hayden, who starts throwing handfuls of snow back at her. Asher and Connor are totally forgotten as the kids run towards the open yard – the yard where Connor remembers learning how to play lacrosse, and sneaking across to his neighbor Cory’s house. Connor stuffs his hands in his coat pockets and walks slowly through the snow towards Asher.

“So you’re like, freaky good with kids,” Asher observes.

Connor shrugs. “I mean, I’m not a monster,” he replies. “But I could say the same for you.”

“They’re cool. Kids are awesome.”

It’s weird, how much they’re learning about each other on this trip. Connor wasn’t expecting that. “Some relative on my mom’s side has kids, so this wasn’t my first rodeo,” Asher adds, hoping his dumb turn of phrase keeps this conversation from turning awkward.

Turns out, he doesn’t have to worry. Hayden will do that for them. “Ooh, are you two gonna _kiss_?” Hayden asks.

Connor looks down. They’re not even standing _that_ close, but they’re certainly being whispery and private so to a ten-year-old, it probably looks fishy. “No, we’re not,” Connor says, turning to his nephew.

“You should,” Sophie says, very matter of factly. “I agree with momma. You need to find love because you deserve it. And also I want to be your flower girl. The clock is ticking, mister!”

If the cold weather hadn’t already made Connor’s cheeks red, Sophie’s comments definitely would have. “Hey, guys, weren’t we going to try to find a sled?” Asher asks with way more enthusiasm than is entirely necessary, in hopes of changing the topic.

Hayden and Sophie cheer, and Asher glances up at Connor before he nods in the general direction of the shed. Connor wants to thank him, but the words get caught in his throat.

See, it’s not that Connor minds, so much, that Sophie wants to be flower girl, or that his family wants him to settle down. It’s just that it’s a hard topic. They don’t get it. They don’t know half of what’s going on in his life – for good reason – and he’s certainly not sure they’d appreciate Oliver once they find out he’s HIV positive. _If_ they find out, that is. Things with Oliver don’t exactly seem to be going all that well, which is really dashing Connor’s confidence. So much so that he actually finds himself going along with Asher’s absolutely stupid plan.

See – Asher, the bastard, finds a sled in the shed. A nice, sleek red one that’ll slide perfectly down the hill at the side of their property. There’s just a golf course on the other side, and a line of trees dividing the two properties, so it’s not as though they’re going to slide into traffic or someone else’s yard.

It’s just that last year Connor slid right into a tree and this year he _really_ doesn’t want to do that because then Asher will witness it. Asher could record it on his _phone_. And if Asher does that, someone else will inevitably see it, and it’ll probably be someone he really doesn’t want to see it, like Oliver. Or Michaela. Or anyone, really.

But Sophie is so sweet, giving him those damn puppy dog eyes she does, and Asher’s playing along, and that makes Hayden play along too, and Connor is really over being called the Grinch at Christmastime. It happened throughout most of high school, and well into his undergraduate years in college. He wants to break that stigma because who knows how many happy Christmases he actually has left?

So that’s how Connor finds himself on a sled, shooting down the hill at top speed. He doesn’t hit a tree, thankfully. But that’s not the only time he goes down the hill, no, because he’s still hanging out with kids and kids don’t stop with just one. They go until they’re forced to stop. So, Hayden takes a turn, and Sophie, and Asher even, and they just keep going.

Gemma calls them all inside, but Sophie begs for one last slide down the hill. Gemma agrees, but tells them to make it quick. “Okay!” Sophie says, before turning to Asher and Connor. “I think you guys should get the last sled. 

She looks conspiratorially at Hayden, who grins and says, “Yeah! You guys do it!”

“We can’t go down there together, the sled’s not big enough,” Connor argues.

“Please?” Sophie begs.

She and Hayden both put on their best sad puppy faces – the same ones that talked him into sledding in the first place – and Connor sighs. “It’s just one slide down the hill, bro,” Asher says, taking his seat on the sled, taking the liberty of sitting on the back end of it, his legs sprawled over either side of it. “Come on. Please?” Asher asks, pouting like Sophie and Hayden.

“You guys – stop it,” Connor says, trying to fight a smile. Hayden walks up and starts to nudge Connor toward the sled. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it. Just once, okay? Once.”

“Deal!” Sophie agrees happily.

Connor can’t believe that Asher begged with the kids, the jerk. It’s all in good fun but he’s always had a bit of paranoia around straight guys that he befriends. It’s one thing to be an experiment, have guys openly admitting that they like him because he’s gay. But it’s entirely another thing trying to navigate a friendship with a guy who, aside from a few weird comments here and there, Connor is sure is straight. And yet here he is, ready and willing to slide down a hill with his legs wrapped around Connor.

Slowly, Connor lowers himself down onto the sled, between Asher’s legs. “There you go. See? We fit,” Asher grins.

Connor reaches out for the rope, holding onto it for dear life. He takes a deep breath as Asher reaches out too, his arms bracketing Connor and holding onto the rope, too. Then, Asher kicks off, squishes his legs onto the slide on either side of Connor, and they’re off. They cascade down the hill with terrifying speed, and Asher and Connor both laugh as they just keep going, going, going.

They can hear Hayden and Sophie cheering and shouting as they slide down the hill, and for one second Connor’s mind is wiped free of all the crappy stuff that’s happened to him in the last year and a half. All he can think about is the wind in his face – yeah, it’s a little cold – and the way Asher smells like his soap and is holding onto him like it’s no big deal.

And then it all happens at once. Asher curses. The sled starts to curve.

 _Thud_.

Just like last year, the sled careened into a tree and Connor got the worst of it, flying forward like one of those crash test dummies, the tree catching his fall. Connor rolls onto his back, the wind knocked out of him, and he lays there in the snow for a minute as Asher curses and scrambles towards him. “Woah, dude, sorry. I tried to stop it I swear,” Asher says, kneeling next to Connor and looking down at him 

“I told you guys that was a bad idea,” Connor mumbles. He sits up slowly, watching as Sophie and Hayden ran towards them. When they freeze and stare at him, horrified, Connor scrunches his brow and asks, “What?”

“You’re bleeding,” Sophie says softly.

Asher sees it too, the small lines of blood sliding slowly down Connor’s forehead. He hit his head on the tree as he fell off the sled. “It’s alright, you guys. Just go inside, okay? Hayden, see if you can find a first aid kit. Sophie, you’re in charge of making him the best cup of cocoa ever, okay?” Asher instructs.

Sophie nods, taking her task very seriously, and she and Hayden disappear up the hill and into the house. Connor makes a move to stand up, but Asher reaches out for him. “Take it slow, okay? Don’t want you getting dizzy and puking on my boots.”

“Those are _my_ boots, actually,” Connor grumbles. 

“Still. No puking. Because if you do, then I will, and we cannot have that,” Asher says. “I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of your family more than I already have.

Connor huffs out a laugh and tries to stand up again. Asher has his hands out, like he’s ready to catch him at any moment. “I’m fine,” Connor insists, swaying as he stands up.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Asher says.

Connor’s dizzy, and he’s not really thinking, and Asher’s being so nice and now his head is starting to throb. He just does what he’s told, at this point, which is how he ends up getting held around the waist by Asher as they take their time up the hill and into the house. Gemma and Hayden are both by the door, clucking like mother hens when they see Connor and the blood. “You never learn, do you?” Gemma says as she helps him into the nearest chair.

“I talked him into it. It was my fault this time,” Asher insists.

Connor glances up at Asher, who does look a little worried and rather guilty, and then over at his sister who is gingerly pulling the hat off of his head. “I’m fine,” Connor says, sitting up a little taller, trying to prove that he’s okay.

“Just let me clean you up and then you can go relax. We’ve got the fireplace going,” Gemma bargains, though her tone makes it clear that Connor doesn’t have a choice.

She makes quick work of cleaning up the little scrape on his forehead, and he tries to talk her out of sticking a bandage over it but doesn’t succeed. He’ll take it off later, he decides, because he’d much rather get out of his damp snow-clothes and into something a little cozier. And he wants that cocoa he can hear his mom and Sophie making in the kitchen. 

“Asher, why don’t you take him upstairs. The two of you can change into some dry clothes and then settle into the family room by the fireplace. We’ll bring you cocoa when you’re done,” Mrs. Walsh suggests.

“Sure thing, ma’am,” Asher says respectfully, before looking back at Connor. “You good?”

“Fine,” Connor insists. The smile isn’t on his face anymore. Asher doesn’t like that one bit.

He’s quiet as Asher follows him up the stairs. Connor insists he doesn’t need help, even though he sways a bit when he gets to the landing. “Do you have a concussion or something?” Asher asks as they walk down the hall.

“I’m fine, seriously,” Connor insists, wandering into his bedroom. He shivers and says, “I’m just cold, and I actually could really use that cocoa. Good thinking.”

“I just wanted her to feel important,” Asher says simply. “Instead of worrying.”

Again, Asher doing that thing where he’s good with kids. It makes Connor’s stomach twist. Asher rifles through his bag to find some dry clothes, and then changes without thinking twice. Connor is taking things a little slower, and as he’s tugging off his sweater, he asks, “Why’d you go along with it?”

Asher pauses, his jeans halfway up his legs. He nearly falls over. Brow furrowed in confusion, he pulls up his jeans – dry ones that aren’t soaked through with snow – and says, “What, the sledding thing? It was fun.”

“Right but like… you’re just rolling with it when people ask if we’re dating or like, think you’re Oliver. I woke up in your _arms_.”

“We’re friends, right? This is stuff that happens to friends sometimes. No big deal.”

A bit awkwardly, Asher looks away and tugs off his sweater. Connor’s eyes linger on Asher’s chest, and it takes him until the last possible second to tear his eyes away and finish getting changed himself. His hair’s a rumpled mess but he’s going to leave it that way. The big celebration won’t happen until tomorrow anyway. Asher’s hair is a little flatter than usual and Connor thinks to himself that it’s an indication of how Asher will look in ten years when he’s aged a little more. He smiles a little at that 

“What’s so funny?” Asher asks, tugging his own sweater into place.

“Nothing,” Connor says. “Cocoa?”

Connor stands up and blinks heavily for a moment, and Asher concedes by saying, “As long as you don’t die on the way down the stairs.”

 

\--

 

The rest of the day is actually pretty relaxed, partially because people are worried about Connor after he hit his head on the tree. They sit around by the fireplace and watch Christmas movies all afternoon, sipping homemade cocoa from the stovetop.

Asher and Connor share a blanket, and a corner of the couch, but if anyone thinks it’s weird they don’t say anything. It’s not like they were even cuddling, but… well, at one point Asher fell asleep on Connor’s shoulder. But it’s no big deal. Really.

It would have been cute if Connor hadn’t found it completely insulting because it happened during his favorite holiday movie.

Sophie and Hayden drag Asher away after the movies, begging him to help them write a letter to Santa, and he agrees before Connor can even think of a way to give him an out. He doesn’t want Asher to feel obligated to do anything he doesn’t want to, not even considering the possibility that Asher might actually like hanging out with his family.

That leaves Connor alone with his mom and sister, which. He knew that’d be coming eventually but he really doesn’t feel like talking about it now.

“Can we not do this?”

Gemma and his mom study him with concern for a moment before Gemma begins gingerly, “You just told us not that long ago that you’d be bringing Oliver here to meet us. And we get Asher instead? Don’t get me wrong, I think Asher’s a really great guy and you should give him a chance, but we just want to understand. What happened with Oliver?”

“Okay first of all, Asher isn’t gay,” Connor starts, and then sighs. He doesn’t want to talk about this. To relive the pain. “Oliver decided he’d rather be alone than with me. And I couldn’t change his mind. There’s nothing else to say.”

“That can’t be everything,” Mrs. Walsh says softly. “You can tell us. Did you cheat on him?’

“God, _no_ ,” Connor says, gritting his teeth in frustration. He scoots forward on the couch to explain. “Why does everyone think I did something to him? I didn’t. He said we’d changed but he wanted to know who he was without me or some bullshit like that. So I had to move out. I don’t even know where I’m staying when I go back because I _was_ crashing on Michaela’s couch but now she’s best friends with Oliver and probably hates me for taking Asher’s side in _their_ stupid breakup.” He combs a hand through his hair, and then rests his elbows on his knees. “Oliver says I’m damaged. And yeah, maybe I am. Whatever. But like…” Connor sniffles, burying his face in his hands, and he hates himself for getting emotional like this. “I was trying, with him. I really tried.”

Mrs. Walsh very gently walks from her chair over to the couch where Connor is sitting. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and says, “You’re allowed to cry over breakups just like everyone else, darling. 

“Mom…”

“I mean it. Sometimes that’s the best way to handle something.”

“That’s what I do,” Gemma offers.

Connor takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I’m sick of crying over him. I like… I _changed_ for him and I thought that was a _good_ thing. 

“It was, Connor,” Mrs. Walsh insisted.

Gemma studies her brother for a moment and says, “When I saw you last Christmas, being good even when I brought you someone so you wouldn’t be lonely… I could already tell that you’d changed for the better. I was so proud. 

“We _are_ proud,” Mrs. Walsh corrects. “Honey, if he doesn’t like this mature, respectful man you’ve grown into, then it’s his loss. There are plenty of men out there who will be lucky to have that kind of attention from you.”

“You really moved in with him?” Gemma asks curiously.

Connor sighs. “Yeah. Like, a little after Christmas, actually. That’s when we started getting serious. We like, got tested together which is super weird, but we did it, and like…” he takes a deep breath. “I don’t even care that much about _me_ in all of this. It’s Ollie that’s going to get hurt, because he’s honest and he’s open and he’s going to tell people he’s poz and they’re going to leave him and then he’s going to be hurt again and he doesn’t deserve that.”

“What’s poz?” Mrs. Walsh asks.

Shaking his head, Connor whispers, “Positive, mom. He’s got HIV.” Gemma and his mom are both quiet, so Connor continues, “I did this whole medicine regimen thing, to protect myself from it. And like, we’re careful. But other guys aren’t like me. They’ll ditch him and they won’t look back, and he deserves better than that." 

“You love him, don’t you?” Gemma whispers.

Connor rubs at his eyes, getting rid of any tears before they can fall. “It doesn’t matter. He decided he didn’t want me. And Michaela decided she didn’t want Asher and he didn’t have a family to go home to so he’s here now, okay? And he’s my _friend_ , one of the only ones I have left because of all this stupid stuff with Annalise.”

He leans back against the cushions of the couch, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s happening with Annalise?”

“Someone blew up her house,” Connor says, his eyes closed. “Laurel got hurt but she survived, at least. Wes…” Connor sniffled again. “One of our friends is dead because of all of this. And I really just want to survive law school so I can… I don’t even know. I just want to be done.”

Connor knows his mom has a big heart, that she’s always looking out for everyone and she takes their emotions to heart, which is why it’s not surprising to see her with tears in her eyes when he finally has the courage to look at her. “Connor, honey…”

“I don’t need pity, mom, I just need to finish school. I’ll be fine.”

“We just want you to be happy, Connor. We always have,” Gemma insists. “And right now you’re not.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m not quitting. I worked hard to get into this school.”

“Maybe transfer, then.”

Shaking his head, Connor says, “No, I can’t. I mean, I tried. I got into Stanford, actually. Can you believe it? Me. At Stanford.”

Confused, Gemma asks, “Why didn’t you go?”

Connor lets out a dry, annoyed laugh. “Well, because back when Oliver _did_ want me, he decided it was better for our relationship if he rejected the letter for me, because we needed to stay in Philadelphia, so he could work for Annalise. Or some bullshit like that.”

“We can call Stanford and sort it all out. They accepted you once, they’d be fools not to do it again,” Mrs. Walsh says simply. “Maybe it’s better you’re not dating Oliver anymore. He sounds selfish, if you ask me.”

“He’s not.”

Gemma frowns and studies her brother, the way he looks more vulnerable and broken and tired than she’s seen him in a very long time. “He _is_ , Connor. And I think you know it, but you don’t want to admit it,” she says gently. “He had no right to turn down your acceptance, and his reason for dumping you is ridiculous.”

“Look, I’m fine, okay? I’m half done at Middleton. Dealing with the transfer credits would be a nightmare so I should just finish it up there and call it a day. Besides, I don’t want to leave Asher to deal with all of this alone,” Connor says. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“Keep Asher close,” Mrs. Walsh advises softly. “He’s a good kid. He cares about you.”

“Mom, I told you, he’s -,”

“- not gay, I know. But you’ve never really had anyone you’re _just friends_ with. Until now, it seems. Don’t lose that. A friend is just as valuable as a lover, just in different ways,” she advises.

Gemma sees how badly Connor wants an out, so she says, “Speaking of Asher, why don’t we go relieve him of his duties as Santa-letter-writer, huh? I’m sure you guys are exhausted after a long day outside with the kids.”

Mrs. Walsh gives Connor a kiss on the head as he sits up, and she says goodnight softly as he stands. He says goodnight back and follows Gemma into the kitchen where Hayden, Sophie, and Asher each sit with a half-eaten cookie in their mouths. “Are there any left for Santa?” Gemma asks.

Connor is avoiding their gazes, for the most part, because he knows his eyes are glassy and red-rimmed and he really doesn’t want to have to explain that to the kids. Asher picks up on it, though, and he stands up right away. “I can take over from here,” Gemma says to him with a gentle smile. “You just make sure this one gets a good night’s rest, okay?” She gestures to Connor, who scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sure thing,” Asher says, saluting her before going up the stairs, Connor right behind him.

Upstairs in Connor’s room, Asher fixes a concerned gaze on Connor right away. “Dude, what’s going on? You okay?” he asks, fiercely protective at the very first instant.

“I’m fine,” Connor insists. “They wanted to talk about Ollie. So.”

Frowning, Asher nods and says, “Oh. Sorry. It sucks that they make you keep reliving it.”

Crossing his arms, Connor shrugs and says, “I mean, they’re my family. I should tell them. But it just sucks every time I think about it because like -,”

“Look – what he did to you wasn’t fair. And I know how much it sucks,” Asher empathizes.

He sits down on the bed, leaning against the headboard, and studies Connor. It’s been such an interesting day for them, to say the least, but seeing Connor vulnerable and sad just reminds Asher all over again what they’re escaping from. “Come here, dude,” Asher says, patting the bed next to him. He smiles a little, trying to lighten the mood.

Connor raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

“Come on. Walshy needs a hug. Don’t fight it, dude,” Asher says, his smile growing, his arms outstretched.

Connor fights a laugh and looks away, licking his lips to try to distract himself and keep the smile hidden away.

“You know you want to,” Asher insists. “Come on. Don’t make me go over there and get you.”

Rolling his eyes, Connor trudges over to the bed and sits down on the other side of it. Asher wraps him up in a giant hug and Connor really tries to fight his smile – it’s just that he fails. Totally. And Asher definitely noticed. “Alright, grab your laptop. We’re watching another movie,” Asher instructs, a plan already formulating in his head to cheer Connor up.

While Connor’s fetching his laptop, Asher pushes back the blankets on the bed. Connor sits down underneath them like it’s no big deal and scoots towards the center, handing Asher his laptop. “Okay. We’re watching one that isn’t for kids,” Asher says. “It’s my favorite.”

“Love Actually or The Holiday?”

Asher turns to look at Connor, eyebrow raised. “Nice. Love Actually. I watch it every year but I just haven’t had the time yet,” he says.

“You’re lucky I like that movie,” Connor teases, though he would have watched it no matter what, at this point.

They lean against the pillows and the headboard, the laptop perched on Asher’s lap at first. Connor keeps pushing the screen so it turns towards him, until Asher finally just scoots towards Connor until they’re pressed together, side to side. The laptop sits half on his leg, half on Connor’s, and then it’s easier for both of them to see. Connor glances over at Asher, who is pointedly avoiding his gaze. It feels like high school all over again. 

It’s cozy and comfortable in the still of the night, people in the house falling asleep one by one until Connor’s pretty sure they’re the only two left awake. It’s the scene where the kid is running through the airport, and it’s Connor’s favorite. And if his head falls to Asher’s shoulder as he’s watching it, neither of them say anything about it – at first.

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” Asher asks, his voice just above a whisper. 

“No,” Connor whispers back. “This is my favorite part.”

Asher smiles. You can tell a lot about a person based on their favorite scene in Love Actually. It’s sweet, that Connor’s favorite storyline is the one that’s so innocent. They’re quiet all the way up until the ending, all the clips of families hugging and kissing when they meet up again in the airport. “I hope one day someone greets me like that in the airport,” Asher whispers. 

“They will,” Connor says, like a reflex. If anyone’s going to settle down and find happiness, it’s Asher. He’s a way better person than Connor ever was.

Asher takes a deep breath, clearly not feeling the same way. “Not likely.”

Connor sits up and turns to face Asher, and he blinks a few times as he realizes how close they are. They’re quiet, and they’re close, and the whole scene is so still and calm. The lights are off, there’s snow falling outside the windows, and the house is quiet. It’s like something out of a movie. Connor can hear Asher’s breath, almost feel it. And when Asher’s eyes dart down to look at Connor’s lips, and then back up to his eyes, Connor gets a twist in his gut. He knows what that means. What it _usually_ means.

He can’t do that though, because Asher’s straight and Connor refuses to be the guy who falls for a straight dude. But Asher isn’t leaning away. He licks his lips and swallows hard, and Connor feels like it’s coming. But Asher can’t want that, right?

Connor gently drops his hand to Asher’s thigh, to see what that will do, if Asher will shy away. 

But he doesn’t.

Asher looks nervous, but lifts his arm, resting it around Connor’s shoulders, fingers resting at the nape of his neck. That’s when Connor knows this is going to happen, and it could end very, very badly.

It’s the slowest, most tender kiss Connor’s probably ever initiated, but he doesn’t want to scare Asher away. He doesn’t even know if Asher wants this. Connor’s just trying to read the signs, and he knows what these looks and touches usually mean. And Asher’s touching him, too, so that’s got to mean something, right?

Asher’s not really sure what made him do it, but he had to know. He just _had_ to know. And Connor s being so gentle with him that he really doesn’t know how to process that. It’s weird, feeling scruff when their lips meet, smelling musky cologne rather than sweet perfume, but at the same time… it’s the same. It feels almost exactly like kissing a girl, which. Asher was kind of expecting that but it still catches him off guard.

He pulls Connor a little closer, thankful for his arm already being around Connor’s shoulders, and Asher melts into the kiss. He’s not worried. He’s not freaking out.

It’s Connor who pulls away, though he’s being slow and deliberate with each move, and he looks into Asher’s eyes. Asher doesn’t stop holding Connor around his shoulders. He’s not so sure he wants it to stop at that. 

“Asher -,” Connor mutters, looking away, avoiding his eyes.

“It’s good. I’m good,” Asher whispers, his cheeks a little flushed. He wants to reassure Connor. It’s weird enough that Connor’s the one freaking out, not Asher.

Connor, looking quite confused, fixes his gaze on Asher. “You’re -,” Connor tries again.

Asher licks his lips and doesn’t quite know what to say. He knows it’s a little reckless, but he dares to whisper, “Do it again.”

And Connor’s never been good with saying no. Especially not when he’s sad and vulnerable. So he does what he’s told.

Connor dips in for another kiss, still being as gentle as before. He’s worried that if he’s too aggressive, too much like he usually is with guys, that he’s going to scare Asher off. He already doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Asher’s willingly sitting on the bed with him, arm around his shoulders, kissing him. Connor also doesn’t know what to make of the way his heart is pounding in his chest and why something about what they’re doing feels _safe_. Connor never feels safe. Not really.

Asher knows he’s probably going to regret this later, more out of confusion than anything, but in the moment it feels good. Connor is warm and he smells good and his hair is a lot softer than Asher would have expected. He feels the brush of scruff against his cleanly-shaven skin. It bristles. The sting is nice. And Connor, well – he definitely knows how to kiss. How to use his tongue.

Connor’s hand drifts along Asher’s thigh, where it’s been resting all this time, fingers dipping down and brushing over the seam of his jeans. He’s not full-on touching him, but his fingers are dangerously close, and Asher feels it, the way Connor’s hand is oh-so-slowly drifting up his thigh. It takes his breath away and his brain can’t quite compute what’s going on. He’s not sure he’s ready for that – if he’ll ever be – but all he knows is this kissing thing, even if Connor is a dude, is super nice. Like, toe-curling good.

Ever so slowly, Connor pulls away, resting his forehead against Asher’s. “Sorry,” Connor whispers. “You’re – I shouldn’t have -,”

“Shut up. Don’t even say it,” Asher says, with a bit of a laugh. “It was good. I liked it.”

Connor huffs out a dry laugh and turns his head, wincing and letting out a hiss when his scrape from earlier brushes against Asher’s forehead. “Dude, you okay?” Asher asks, his arm gently falling from where he’d been holding Connor around his shoulders.

“Just – this,” Connor says, fingers gingerly brushing over where the bandage is still on his head.

“Awww, do I need to kiss it better?” Asher asks playfully, a smile budding on his face. Connor rolls his eyes, trying yet again to fight a smile. “Come here,” Asher prompts. “Come on. I’ll kiss it better. It’s all because of me, after all.” He’s smiling – and Connor still can’t believe he’s not freaking out – but he’s not going to think too much about that right now.

Asher leans in and very gently presses a kiss to where the bandage is still stuck to Connor’s forehead. It’s so cheesy Connor doesn’t know how to react. “Movie’s over. Sleep now? I’m guessing your niece and nephew are going to wake us up super early because of Santa,” Asher says, separating himself from Connor.

He starts squirming under the blankets and Connor raises an eyebrow at what he’s seeing. “What are you doing?”

There’s a rumple of clothing and the sound of a belt hitting the floor, and Asher says simply, “It’s nice and warm in this bed and I don’t want to get out.”

Connor looks under the blankets, and then back up at Asher. “You’re wearing a sweater and your underwear. In my bed.”

“Dude, you want to get out of this bed and freeze your ass off just to change, you go for it. I’m going to stay here, nice and warm,” Asher says simply. It’s not even the gay thing. It’s just simply that he’s warm, and he doesn’t like to be cold.

“Fine, I’ll do it too,” Connor says, almost like a test. If Asher’s really cool with what they just did, and sharing a bed with a gay guy, he won’t mind sleeping next to him in his underwear. Connor thinks the freak out is coming any minute now, so he takes his time.

His own jeans hit the floor with a thud but Asher doesn’t move. He just curls up under the blankets, a satisfied look on his face. “You’re ridiculous,” Connor says, a smile almost showing up on his lips.

“You love it,” Asher laughs.

 

\--

 

Connor wakes up first, again, and isn’t shocked at all to find that over the course of the night, he and Asher got tangled together. He was a little caught off guard by it the first night, but it’s not shocking anymore. In fact, it’s sort of a comfort, even if he’s still incredibly confused about the kiss they shared the night before. Asher’s got himself draped over Connor, one leg strewn over one of Connor’s, an arm around his waist, and his face nuzzled against his chest – or, well, almost in Connor’s armpit. But Asher is sound asleep and when Connor looks down, his nose brushes against Asher’s hair and he can still smell his shampoo, and the realization twists his stomach.

Instead of dragging himself out of bed and away from Asher’s snuggling, Connor decides to just enjoy it while he can. The snow outside stopped, and there’s a stillness to the air that he knows is going to break any second.

Connor lays peacefully, eyes closed and thoughts flying through his head about where to go from this point with Asher, until finally he hears Sophie squealing. “Santa came! Santa came!” come her muffled shouts from downstairs. No matter how many times he comes, she’s still amazed and excited. Connor misses that sort of blissful, happy ignorance. He wants it back. Maybe that’s why he likes kids so much.

Asher startles awake when he hears Hayden’s stomps down the hallway and down the stairs. “What’sit?” he mutters, half-asleep and groggy.

Connor’s hand reflexively holds Asher around his waist a little tighter as he chuckles and says, “Santa came."

Asher laughs and sleepily rests his head back on Connor’s chest. Either he doesn’t realize what he’s doing yet, or he doesn’t care. Connor isn’t entirely sure he’s prepared if it’s the latter. That changes a lot of things for the two of them.

Ever so slowly, Connor begins to stretch and move them towards getting out of bed. He laughs when he sees the lines on Asher’s face from where he fell asleep; Connor’s sweater left imprints of the yarn’s pattern all over Asher’s cheek. “Sleep well?” he asks.

“Dude, your bed is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever been in,” Asher replies.

Laughing, Connor says, “Well… you only slept on half of it.”

Asher’s eyes dart down to Connor’s chest, and yeah, he gets it, they’re not boyfriends and Asher’s not even really sure he’s gay. He just knows that he likes touching Connor – and he learned last night that he likes _kissing_ him too – and he’s still trying to work out how to process that.

“No shower until after Santa’s gifts,” Connor tells him as he wanders over to his dresser. He pulls out a random pair of plaid flannel pants and slides them on as he says, “We do those presents, and then usually we have breakfast and get ready for the day. Then extended family comes over, we have a meal, we do presents, we do our yearly photoshoot which is so cheesy and you can totally say no to, and then…”

“Connor, no way, I feel like part of the family. No kicking me out for the _photoshoot_. I mean, have you seen this face?” Asher says, standing proudly in his underwear and a sweater, gesturing to his sleep-rumpled and yarn-imprinted face. “I am the epitome of perfection. I _need_ to be in your family pics.”

As much as Connor wants to roll his eyes and call Asher an idiot, he can’t help but find crazy sentiments like what he’s just said a little bit attractive. Connor does roll his eyes, but he smiles as he does it, and shakes his head. “Just put on some pajama pants and let’s go, okay? I promise dad’s put on coffee so we’ll have something to wake us up.”

Asher yawns and says, “I _am_ wide awake.”

This time, Connor really rolls his eyes.

They go downstairs and right away Asher’s caught up in the excited chattering of Hayden and Sophie. They’re so delighted by Santa – and they are every year – but this year they’re especially happy because they realized that Asher has a gift underneath the tree from Santa, too.

Connor’s family has always had the rule that Santa gives each person one gift and only one gift each year. Usually his mom is in charge of it, because she’s really good at choosing gifts for people, but sometimes Asher’s sister Gemma helps her out, too. Not even Connor was expecting to see something under there for Asher, because he’d told his family that Asher was coming at the very last minute, and he’s a little nervous about what he got from ‘Santa.’

“Wait, I got something, too?” Asher asks, his face full of confusion.

Sophie grins and nods, “Yeah! Santa knew where you were!”

“Santa is _awesome_!” Hayden shouts.

Connor looks up at his mom and Gemma, both of whom are pointedly avoiding his scrutinizing gaze. He’s worried that it might make Asher feel bad – Asher’s never been poor before, been the subject of someone else’s generosity, because he’s always had everything he ever wanted. Asher doesn’t seem offended though, just genuinely shocked.

“Alright kids, let the grown-ups get their coffee and then we’ll open gifts,” Gemma says.

Connor goes to the kitchen, Asher behind him, and he pours them each a cup of coffee. Handing one to Asher, he says, “Sorry if this is weird. I had no idea.”

“No, dude, it’s cool. Super surprising, but cool. They didn’t have to get me anything,” he says.

Asher looks away though, and sips at his coffee as Connor really takes a moment to think about their lives and how they used to be so similar, and now they’re so different. He can’t imagine losing his family and everyone he loves. Losing his money or his privilege.

“Come on,” Connor says, gently coaxing Asher to leave the kitchen and go back to the massive living room. “Let’s go so the kids can open their gifts.”

It feels weird saying that to Asher, vaguely mentioning _the kids_ like they’re domestic or something. He swallows the lump in his throat and leads Asher to a couch where there’s room for the two of them on the love seat. They sit down and leave it to Sophie and Hayden to pass out gifts to everyone. Asher’s box is bigger than Connor’s – Connor tries not to take offense at that – and they’re all waiting eagerly to open their gifts.

When Connor’s dad gives the okay, everyone rips into their gifts from ‘Santa.’ Connor finishes before Asher, revealing a shiny new set of silver and pearl cuff links with a tie clip to match. Well. That explains why his gift was smaller.

Connor’s face goes bright red when he sees what Asher’s been given though, because the implication is huge. _Huge_.

See, it’s tradition every year for the Walsh family to take a holiday picture in front of the tree, each and every person decked out in an ugly Christmas sweater. It’s cheesy and weird but Connor’s been doing it literally since his childhood – he can’t remember a time when they didn’t do it.

And Asher got one for Christmas, and the look on Connor’s mom’s face says that she knows exactly what she’s implying.

Connor glances over at Asher, who looks a little confused. He puts on a smile though, and Connor leans over to explain, “Welcome to the family, I guess. Hold onto that. You’ll need it for the photos later.”

Asher raises an eyebrow like he wants to ask, but he’s interrupted by Hayden, who rushes over to them to show off his fancy new Lego set – ‘build a working motor!’ the box says – and asks if Asher will help him put it together later. “Sure, buddy!” Asher says with a smile. “I’m a total pro at Legos. Ask anyone.”

Hayden lets out a whoop of happiness and rushes off to tell his dad that Asher’s going to help him put it together. Gemma looks very pointedly at Connor, one eyebrow raised. She gestures to her mouth, just above it, and then looks over at Asher. Connor’s cheeks turn red when he realizes that Asher has whisker burn from kissing him the night before. His scruff left actual marks on Asher. And his family _noticed_.

Asher raises his eyebrow when he catches Connor staring at him, and Connor takes a deep breath.

It feels like everything is happening way too fast.

 

\--

 

After breakfast, Connor and Asher find themselves back in Connor’s room. “So like, you have to wear that later,” Connor says, pointing to the sweater that Asher got from Santa that morning.

“What?”

Connor opens the door to his closet and shows Asher the corner full of ugly Christmas sweaters. “It’s a dumb family tradition. We take pictures every year, like I said. And mom has us all take a picture in these sweaters and she puts it on next year’s Christmas card,” he explains. “That’s her way of saying you’re gonna be in the picture this year. So like… yeah.”

“But isn’t it just for your family?” Asher asks.

“I mean, it’s usually got twenty or thirty people in it. Today we’ve got like, the full extended family coming?” Connor combs his hand through his hair at the back of his head, peeking up at Asher a bit awkwardly. “So yeah it’s family but everyone brings someone, so.”

Asher smiles a little, and it’s one of those mischievous smiles that Connor hates. Except it’s making _him_ smile and that’s almost worse. “Aww, Walshy, am I part of the family now?” Asher asks. He sounds so hopeful that Connor can’t even be a Grinch about it.

“Guess so,” he says, looking up at Asher with a smile playing on his lips.

They start getting changed, Connor totally over the fact that they’re changing around each other. He feels eyes on him, but doesn’t look at Asher because he doesn’t want to embarrass him. Asher, on the other hand, couldn’t care less if Connor noticed, because his mind’s been all over the place lately and maybe Connor could help him make sense of it. 

Like, why all of a sudden Asher’s noticing how perfect Connor’s ass is. Or the way his smile is a little lopsided but totally cute. Or how sleeping on Connor’s shoulder was some of the best sleep Asher’s ever gotten. He doesn’t really know how to process it all because. Well. _Girls_. They’re a _thing_ , and they have _boobs_ , and Asher’s still really into that. 

“You’ve got whisker burn, by the way,” Connor says offhandedly as he fixes his hair in the mirror. Asher raises an eyebrow. “Come here, look,” Connor says, stepping aside so Asher can look in the mirror. “Right there.” He points to the little red patch above Asher’s lips. 

Asher is quiet.

“My sister noticed but I don’t think she’s going to say anything, so you’re fine,” Connor says. He turns to face Asher.

Connor isn’t smiling, doesn’t look happy like he did earlier, so Asher can’t help but ask, “Do you regret it?”

“Regret kissing you?” Connor asks. Asher nods and keeps his gaze fixed on Connor. He wants to read every single tick on Connor’s face, to see if he’s lying. “Honestly? No." 

Asher wants to doubt him but he can’t, because Connor looks more earnest than he’s ever seen him. And he’s looking away after confessing it, and keeping quiet, and something about that says uncertainty and nervousness to Asher.

“Well good, because I don’t either,” Asher replies simply. “In fact, I’d even do it again, you’re that good at it.”

Connor snorts and looks back up at Asher with amusement. “What if I don’t think you were that good at it?” he asks. 

“Yeah right. I’m like, a _pro_ ,” Asher says jokingly. Inside, he’s wondering – no, freaking out about – whether Connor really thought he was awful at it.

As he’s buttoning up his shirt, Connor looks up at Asher and sees the nerves, even if Asher’s trying to school his expression to hide them. “Stop freaking out. I’d do it again too. So like… chill." 

And that’s all they say about it.

The doorbell rings and Connor looks up. “Well, we better go downstairs. Everyone’s going to start showing up so mom’s going to start stressing.”

Asher follows Connor downstairs and is blown away by the number of people in the house and how loving and warm they all are. He’s pretty sure most people are assuming he’s Connor’s boyfriend, but it’s not worth correcting them, honestly. He’d be proud to be Connor’s boyfriend, and hey, there are worse things for people to assume about him. 

He meets Connor’s cousins, and his aunts and uncles, and his grandparents (the lucky bastard has all four grandparents still alive and in his house for Christmas). They get separated almost right away as Gemma starts introducing Asher around, and it takes a while for them to reconnect.

When Asher spots Connor again, he’s sitting on the sofa, a baby in his arms. A _giggling_ baby in his arms, wearing a big poofy red dress, looking at Connor like he’s the greatest person on earth. And that little baby is putting a smile on Connor’s face too, and Asher’s chest tightens at the sight. Everything that might have been freaking him out earlier – all the realizations that he didn’t mind touching or holding Connor, or kissing him – it’s all gone because it just clicks. Connor is _amazing_ , and he’s such a good person despite it all, and _oh shit_. Asher thinks he’s just fallen for Connor. Or something like that.

He swallows hard before walking over to him and sitting down on the couch next to him. “Hey,” Asher says, taking a deep breath.

“Hey,” Connor says, not taking his eyes away from the little baby on his lap. When Asher doesn’t say anything else, Connor looks up and raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah, totally. Just -,”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yeah.”

That’s certainly one way to put it. Connor nods and says, “Yeah. There’s a lot of people. Sorry.” He didn’t want to stress Asher out; that hadn’t been his intention when he invited him to Christmas. “Here, Madison always helps,” Connor says, turning the baby on his lap so she’s sitting on his knee facing Asher.

Asher leans in and smiles to the little girl, who smiles back. She reaches out her drool-covered hand and grabs Asher’s nose, and he lets out a playful howl. Madison giggles and Connor can’t fight his smile as he watches the two of them. He doesn’t notice his mother snapping a picture from across the room, either. He’s too wrapped up in Asher and Madison. 

“How old is she?” Asher asks.

“Eight months,” Connor explains. “She’s my goddaughter." 

Asher looks up at Connor and feels an entirely new weight on his heart. After all the terrible stuff, the things the five of them – four, now – could get put in jail for after starting to work for Annalise, Connor definitely has the most to lose. He’s got a loving family. A niece and nephew. A goddaughter. Children that look up to him. He’s got a big heart and Asher hates thinking about what could happen to them. How it would affect so many more people if Connor got put away, than everyone else. It sucks to think about. Especially because it makes Asher want to take the fall to protect him, and that won’t really help anyone, in the end.

“She’s adorable,” Asher says, tickling her tummy. She kicks her feet and smiles, a line of drool falling out of her mouth and onto her dress. 

“Yeah, she is,” Connor nods. “Want to hold her?”

Asher looks a little nervous, but nods. “Yeah. Sure.”

Gently, Connor lifts Madison and puts her down on Asher’s lap. He slides an arm around her, holding her to his chest, and she smiles even as she’s rested in this new person’s arms. “She likes you,” Connor says softly.

The moment is so tender and gentle, and Connor knows it’s really stupid and dangerous to get so close to Asher like this. Everything will change when they go back to Philadelphia, he’s sure. “Well, I’m a really likeable guy, aren’t I?” he asks, looking down at her.

Madison lets out a soft coo. “She says you’re not bad,” Connor translates.

“Ah, so you speak baby?” Asher asks, glancing up at Connor.

Connor’s sitting closer than he was before. Asher swallows a lump in his throat and has to take a moment to remind himself to _stop staring_. After a minute, Connor realizes what he’s doing and shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. He hears a rather joyous greeting at the doorway and looks up, vaguely registering his mom putting her phone down with a smile on her face. Connor clears his throat and reaches out for Madison. “So. Your Christmas present is here,” Connor says, avoiding Asher’s eyes. “Come with me.”

Madison lays her head on Connor’s shoulder as they walk over to the foyer. Asher knows where they’re going before Connor even points out what’s going on – and he’s incredibly confused. “Connor, look at you! You finally brought a boy home!”

There’s a beautiful brunette girl in the doorway, decked out in a striking mahogany dress, the neckline cut low in the back, her hair in long curls over her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkle and she has the whitest, most perfect smile Asher has ever seen. She reaches out to hug Connor, and she’s clearly of some relation to him. The eyes are the same. “He’s not my boyfriend,” Connor says. Madison squeals in his arms and the girl leans in to smile at the baby, too.

“Candice, this is Asher. We’re in law school together.” He looks over his shoulder. Candice stands up from greeting Madison and faces Asher, and her gaze is so warm Asher can’t even be intimidated by her like he usually is by really attractive women. That, and his eyes keep darting over to Connor because he can’t get him out of his head. It’s confusing. “Asher, meet Candice. She’s twenty-five, and she works as a financial adviser in Baltimore,” he says. “She’s very smart, and very single.” He turns to smile at Candice. “Have fun!”

Connor swoops – literally swoops – into the kitchen with Madison giggling against his chest. Asher stands a little dumbstruck in the foyer with Candice – this _really hot_ woman that is apparently his Christmas present. After last night, the kiss, the ‘ _yeah I’d do it again’_ s this morning… Connor is setting him up with his cousin. Like everything was all a lie. Like he _would_ do it again, kiss him, but he doesn’t want to. It sours the moment a little.

“Let’s get some cocoa, sit down and talk?” Candice suggests.

Asher nods dumbly. “I – sure. Yeah,” he agrees.

Candice walks into the kitchen, Asher following behind her. She’s got sleek black pumps on that click with each step, and when they get into the kitchen, Connor is there but not even looking at him. Instead he’s focused on slinging a towel over his red button-down shirt, and cradling Madison in his arms to feed her a bottle.

Candice hands Asher a mug of cocoa and then suggests they go to the sitting room, by the fireplace, to talk and get to know each other. Connor glances up as Asher leaves the room, and when their eyes lock, the disappointment in Asher’s eyes is jarring. Here Connor had thought he was doing a good deed for Asher after what Michaela did to him – but apparently Asher’s unhappy about it and Connor doesn’t understand that.

He looks down at Madison where she’s dozing off while drinking her bottle, and he doesn’t look up when his mom sits down next to him. “Care to explain why Asher is awkwardly hanging out with Candice?” she prompts.

Sighing heavily, Connor looks around, avoiding her eyes. “I introduced them,” he says.

“Because you have absolutely no interest in him whatsoever?” she goads.

Connor busies himself with using the towel to dab at Madison’s mouth, where a bit of milk is sliding down her chin. “It doesn’t matter,” Connor replies simply.

 “Gemma says she thinks you two have gotten up to a little something,” Mrs. Walsh whispers. She leans in and pushing a loose strand of hair out of Connor’s eyes. “Sweetheart – I don’t think he’s as unavailable as you think he is.”

“Mom -,”

“Hear me out,” she presses. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Connor. And he’s supportive and he’s sweet and he takes such good care of you.” Connor frowns and looks up at his mom as she says, “I just want to see you happy and taken care of. You don’t have to pawn him off on your cousin just to keep him in your life.”

Connor purses his lips. He doesn’t have words to say. He wants that too, but he doesn’t feel deserving. Sensing the thoughts swimming through Connor’s head, Mrs. Walsh rubs his back and smiles. “Go put her in the crib and help me with lunch, okay?” she says.

Nodding, Connor stands up and does what he’s told. He doesn’t want to think about Asher or Candice or Oliver or anything else. Sometimes, he just wants to do busy work and forget.

 

\--

 

Asher is obviously polite to Candice as they sit and talk and drink their cocoa, but he can feel the strange looks he’s getting. He noticed the way Sophie whispered to her mom when he saw them sitting together and talking.

It’s a shitty feeling, being snubbed by Connor like that, but at the same time Asher can’t even say he’s surprised or mad because this is what Connor does. He pushes people away. Not to mention Asher is, for all anyone knows, still straight. Except that ship sailed and he was not on it. He’s not ready to sleep with Connor anytime soon, but at the same time… thinking about it isn’t so strange. All because of one damn kiss. He’s been curious about how it works, but he’s never actually _thought_ about it. And now, as he’s facing this beautiful woman and talking to her, all he can think about his how he’d rather be upstairs with Connor again.

Candice is a good sport about it, even though she can clearly tell that Asher isn’t interested. The coy smile on her face as everyone files in to get lunch makes it pretty clear that she knows where Asher’s mind was instead.

Asher avoids Connor’s eyes as they sit down at the table. He doesn’t want to be clingy or weird or awkward. Except he _is_. And he can feel Connor’s parents watching them and he knows that people sense something’s up.

So Asher makes a ridiculous face across the table at Hayden, who lets out a loud peal of laughter.

That lightens the mood for a little while, at least, and Asher doesn’t acknowledge Connor again until after the family says a prayer (Asher was not expecting that) and they start passing around dishes and dishes of food.

“Dude, nice try pawning me off on someone else,” Asher whispers as Connor hands him some mashed potatoes.

Asher scoops himself some mashed potatoes and hands it off to the person at his left. He turns to face Connor again, who is leaning over with a bowl of green beans. He whispers, “I thought you’d like her. She’s pretty and rich, exactly your type.”

If Asher could roll his eyes any harder, he would. And he’s pretty sure most of the people at the table noticed it, too. He takes the bowl and passes it right along. He doesn’t like green beans. Connor hands off the plate of carved ham next, watching Asher closely. The plate is huge and heavy, and Asher can’t balance it while grabbing himself food. “Just – hold it,” Connor says, reaching out, bracing Asher’s hands on the plate. Asher’s breath catches because he wasn’t expecting Connor to actually touch him.

Connor serves himself some ham, and then serves Asher some, too. “That enough?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” Asher nods. He didn’t even look at his plate. He’s still about three minutes behind, thinking about Connor grabbing his hands. Something that fleeting shouldn’t _matter_ , but it does. And it’s difficult.

He passes it on, and takes a few more dishes from Connor too until his plate is piled high with food. The sheer volume of food that Connor’s family made for all the people gathered around the dining room is absolutely insane. And it’s all delicious, too. 

“So… Connor, how did you two meet?” asks one of his grandmothers from across the table. She gestures between Connor and Asher.

Connor swallows his food and explains, quite simply, how they met in law school and started working at the same law office. He keeps Annalise out of it, though. He knows that they’re not particularly fond of her. “Have you been dating for long?” asks an aunt.

Asher reaches out for his water and takes a drink, pointedly avoiding everyone’s eyes. He laughs nervously and glances over at Connor. “Not dating,” Connor says, putting on a smile, being a good sport about it. “We’re just friends.”

“For now,” Sophie says in a singsong voice.

“Soph,” Gemma warns.

Asher laughs and says, “Matchmaker over there has been nagging us about this for days.”

A few people at the table laugh and someone else that Asher can’t remember the name of asks, “Are you gay, too, then?”

“You don’t have to answer that,” Connor says to Asher almost immediately, leaning towards him as he says it.

“Not gay, but not straight,” he says simply, with a shrug, completely ignoring Connor’s comment. Asher is grateful that these people let him into their home for Christmas. He’s not going to lie to them. He’s learned from experience that lies just breed more lies, and he doesn’t want to deal with that anymore.

The absolute joy that seems to place on Mrs. Walsh’s face is totally worth it, even if Asher’s still processing it all. That makes Asher feel way more relaxed. When Connor looks up and meets his mom’s eyes, he sees it too, and he knows that she’s never going to let him forget this now – that she was right 

Connor looks over at Asher, who just smirks and shrugs like it’s no big deal, even if inside it feels like a _huge_ deal, and then stuffs his mouth with mashed potatoes, still grinning at Connor. It’s fun being in control of the situation.

When they’re done eating, Gemma and Mrs. Walsh and a few of the younger cousins start cleaning up. “What now?” Asher asks.

“Sweaters.”

Connor nods towards the stairs and Asher follows him, up and down the hallway and into his bedroom where Connor closes the door rather loudly. “Dude, chill,” Asher says.

“Not gay but not straight? Since when, dude? I don’t exactly remember you ever being super into dudes. Remember all those times you made me stop talking about being with Oliver because it was too much for you?” Connor asks. He’s clearly tense, and confused, and he’s going to be really pissed if Asher lied to his family.

“Woah, just because I was never out didn’t mean I never thought about it,” Asher says, and then makes a funny face because he thinks he said the right thing, but there were a lot of negatives in there, and that confuses him.

Connor raises an eyebrow. “So you’re suddenly into guys?"

“It’s not _sudden_ I just haven’t acted on it before,” Asher argues back. “Look, yes, once upon a time I asked you to stop talking about your gay stuff with Oliver but that was mostly because, like…” Asher hesitates. “I didn’t want to… you know. _React_.”

Connor’s expression drops all signs of anger as the words click in his head. “Wait – you wanted me to stop so you wouldn’t get _turned on_?” he asks.

“Shut up, okay? I didn’t exactly grow up in a family where everyone waved rainbow flags and supported me no matter what I did,” Asher says lamely, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So like, you can’t really blame me for not acting on all of this until law school.”

There’s vulnerability in Asher’s voice again, and _dammit_ Connor hates when Asher does that because then he can’t stay angry. He goes all soft because Asher’s being all honest and real with him, and then things just get really messy.

“And look, I’m not saying I’m ready to like, hook up or anything. But why is it so bad if I think about being with a dude?” Asher asks. “You don’t have a monopoly on being gay, just so you know.”

“I know that.”

“Just – thanks for trying to set me up with your cousin but she’s not the Walsh I’m interested in so sorry, but no,” Asher says, not even flinching at everything he’s just said would reveal about his feelings. “And I told her that too, and she wasn’t mad. Because Candice, just like everyone else downstairs, thinks you and I are dating but just not admitting it. Because it’s new or something. I don’t know. But they all think it and it was really awkward for you to shove me off on your cousin, actually, and -,”

“Asher.”

Annoyed that he’s been interrupted, Asher looks up at Connor. He’s slowly stepping closer, and Asher’s heart is pounding in his chest. “What?” he asks softly.

“Shut up.”

Asher opens his mouth to argue, to tell Connor he’s got no right to tell him to shut up, but then Connor’s reaching out for him, hand at the back of his neck, and their lips are meeting again, and well – okay. Asher will shut up for this.

Connor presses Asher against the wall, and Asher’s hands fly to Connor’s hips, grabbing a fistful of Connor’s shirt in each hand. The kiss is way different than their last – this one’s heated, a little desperate. Asher can’t really keep up but he likes it. He likes feeling lost in Connor, having him take the lead so Asher can just stay pressed against the wall.

Asher pulls at Connor’s shirt, untucking it from his pants, and starts unbuttoning it as Connor starts to kiss along his jaw and down his neck. “We can’t – not now,” Connor whispers.

With a laugh, Asher mumbles, “We need to put on the sweaters.”

“You just want to get me naked.” Connor grazes his teeth down Asher’s neck, and Asher shivers under his touch, hands not moving as he savors the feeling, totally distracted.

“Half naked,” Asher says, his voice thick and heavy.

Connor smirks and in one quick move, reaches down and pulls Asher’s plain colored sweater up and over his head. He takes a minute, his eyes greedy as they rake over Asher’s chest, this time in plain sight of Asher rather than when he’s not paying attention. “Stop staring,” Asher whispers.

“But what if I want to?” Connor asks, his eyes darting back up to meet Asher’s. 

Asher’s cheeks are bright red, and Connor decides to have a little mercy and finish unbuttoning his own shirt. He shrugs it off and lets it fall to the floor, and now Asher’s the one staring. With a laugh, Connor leans in and whispers, “Hypocrite.”

“Dude,” Asher starts, but ends up just mumbling it against Connor’s lips, and into his mouth, because Connor’s kissing him again and kissing is way better than talking. Always. 

Asher’s hands find Connor’s waist again, and he pulls him tighter against him. He’s never been this close with a guy before, bare chests pressed together, the room suddenly ten degrees hotter. It’s making his brain short circuit. And then when Connor does that thing with his tongue? And his teeth graze Asher’s bottom lip? Then Asher really doesn’t know how to process it. He just knows that if this went on forever, it’d be a damn good way to go.

They both jump out of their skin when there’s a knock on Connor’s door. “Y-yeah?” Connor asks, coughing to clear his throat and try to regain some composure.

“Mom wants you guys downstairs for pictures in five minutes,” Gemma warns through the door.

Connor can just hear from the slight sing-song in her voice that she knows exactly what they were doing. And that makes Connor blush harder than anything else, and Asher sees it. “Chill,” Asher says, though he’s not really following his own advice.

He’s nervous all over again, because at least last night they didn’t have to see anyone after their kiss. This time Asher can feel the slight whisker-burn, and he knows his lips are all puffy because they do that when he’s been kissing someone, and he’s all flushed and worked up. And now they’re going to take pictures so there will be photographic evidence.

Connor steps away from where he’d had Asher pinned against the wall, and he looks over his shoulder at the closed door to shout to his sister, “Be right there.”

Asher swallows hard and licks his lips, and he doesn’t make a move to grab his sweater right away, because he feels like he should say something. Anything.

“That was good.”

Connor raises an eyebrow and turns on the spot to face Asher. That’s about the weirdest thing anyone’s ever said to him after kissing him. And Ollie was a total dork and said some weird stuff.

“I just mean -,” Asher tries to explain.

“I know,” Connor nods. He’s smiling again, and he looks playful. A bit like he’s about to make fun of Asher. “It was good. And it’s happening again tonight, after pictures and presents and dessert.”

Asher feels a twist in his gut and he _really_ likes the sound of that. What he thought would be the worst Christmas ever is actually turning out to be the best Christmas ever, and that’s totally the best thing to happen to him all year.

“Oh good, presents,” he says, so he doesn’t sound over-eager. “I was starting to think your family didn’t do them.”

Connor snorts. “We just save them for the end so we can bribe fussy kids with gifts to get them to sit still and smile for pictures.”

“Smart.”

Laughing, Connor adds, “Well, I think so now, but when I was the kid who wouldn’t sit still, I was pissed. I wanted those presents." 

Asher looks up at Connor, whose hair is a mess now that he just pulled his sweater over his head, and he laughs. He likes hearing about Connor’s past. He likes that Connor trusts him with that stuff. He also sounds like the most spoiled kid Asher’s ever known, and he’s got a spoiled rotten sister out there somewhere.

“Thanks, by the way.”

Connor glances over his shoulder at Asher and raises an eyebrow. He’s not really sure why Asher’s thanking him.

“For inviting me. Christmas would have really sucked if I wasn’t here.”

It’s hard for Connor to fight a smile, so he distracts himself and avoids Asher’s eyes for a minute. He picks up the sweater from that morning where it’s been sitting on his desk, and then carries it over to Asher. He smiles coyly as he hands it to him and says, “Just put on the sweater. Don’t thank me for something like this.”

It’s just what friends do. Or more than friends. Or friends with benefits. Connor has absolutely no idea what to categorize Asher as, but he doesn’t mind much so long as Asher hangs around and doesn’t get all freaked out. The real test will be how he reacts when they get back to Philadelphia and back to work.

Asher pulls the sweater over his head. It’s ridiculous but it’s cozy and warm and he likes it a lot. “I can thank you if I want to,” Asher says indignantly. He peers in the mirror and fixes his hair, and then turns around to face Connor. “So just let me, okay?”

“Fine. You’re welcome. Now go downstairs before everyone thinks we had sex,” Connor jokes, opening the door.

Asher walks out and Connor takes that moment to smack him playfully on the ass, just to see what happens. Asher laughs and looks over his shoulder, a little surprised by the gesture. “Just keep walking,” Connor says, delighted that he distracted him.

Downstairs there are families already taking pictures in front of the tree and gifts. Candice’s family is up next, so Connor and Asher wait in the doorway for their turn. They must have taken Gemma’s family photos first, because Hayden and Sophie are happily playing in the corner, each of them with a new gift and wrapping paper at their feet 

“Alright, now time for the hosts and their kids!”

Someone – Asher thinks it’s Connor’s grandpa – has chairs that he’s directing Mr. and Mrs. Walsh to. “Gemma, Roger, over here,” he instructs, waving his hands around to get the perfect shot. He’s got a camera in hand, and he looks like an old pro. He either does this every year, or it’s his job, but it’s awesome to Asher that someone in the family can be a photographer without being criticized. He remembers his sister going through a photography phase but being told she can’t study that because it’s not ‘practical.’ Stupid Millstone family.

Asher’s face dropped into a frown as he thought about it, but he’s pulled from his thoughts by an elbow in the ribs. “Come on. We’re up.”

“Wait, me too?”

Asher follows Connor to the tree, and he stands where Connor’s grandpa tells him to stand. He ends up at Connor’s left, and Connor and his sister are in the middle, and it totally looks like they’re a couple since the other people standing are _married_. Connor looks a little tense, because this is a huge step, having someone in the family Christmas photos, but his mom looks so happy, and he can tell Gemma is happy too, and Asher’s such a good sport about it.

“Relax and smile, Connor,” his grandpa says.

Asher’s eyes dart to Connor’s face and he can see the tense, awkward smile on his face. It’s probably a dumb idea, but Asher follows through anyway, brushing his fingers gently up and down Connor’s back. It’s pretty relaxing – Asher loves when people rub his back – and it must do the trick enough because Connor’s grandpa says, “There you go, Connor,” and starts snapping pictures.

The most confusing thing for Asher isn’t that he’s standing there with Connor, in his family photos, his hand at the small of his back. No, the most confusing thing is that he’s smiling and going along with it and finding himself constantly wishing that this could be his life, from now on. Not necessarily because he wants to marry Connor or anything, but because this is the sort of warm family holiday that he’s always thought was total fiction. But it’s real, and Connor Walsh gets it every year, and Asher is ridiculously jealous.

When their turn is done, Asher and Connor scoot aside so Connor’s parents can take a photo together, but Gemma doesn’t let them go too far (even though Asher can smell the gingerbread cookies from across the room and he _wants one_ ). “Your turn,” she smiles, coaxing the both of them to stand in front of the Christmas tree.

“Gem -,”

“Oh please? For your old mother?” Mrs. Walsh begs, ushering the two of them together.

Connor glances at Asher, because this feels awfully relationship-y and that’s a little weird considering they’ve only kissed twice. Sure, they know that they’ve each killed someone but that’s not nearly the same as being together in a way that says _let’s take Christmas photos together_. But Asher shrugs and he’s a pretty good sport about it, so now Connor feels like he has to. Because if Asher’s not freaking out, then Connor has to reason to, right?

They stand where Gemma and Mrs. Walsh put them, in front of the tree and angled towards each other. “Do that thing with your arm again Asher, like you did for the family photo,” Connor’s grandpa directs.

Connor’s cheeks turn red and Asher stares for a minute before he realizes what he means. _Put your arm around his waist_. And well, that feels an awful lot like a relationship.

But Asher wants that, is the thing. Like, he wants to stand there with Connor like that and smile for the camera and pretend his life is normal. There’s nothing he wants more than to feel like an average guy again.

So Asher does as he’s told, and stands at Connor’s side with an arm around his waist. And Connor only hesitates for like a second before Asher feels the weight of his hand around him, fingers resting at his hip. They feel like a couple. An actual, honest to God couple. Like Connor isn’t ashamed or embarrassed to be seen with Asher, the way Bonnie and Michaela were.

“Relax,” Gemma says, standing close to them and looking between them. “You guys are fine, we all support you, and it’s just a few photos for mom.” She rubs both of their shoulders before stepping back. 

“Alright boys, smile!” prompts Connors grandpa.

And they do, but it must look awkward, because he lowers the camera. Asher and Connor look at each other, both of them feeling a little weird about the whole situation. 

Before any of the adults can think of a way to make it less awkward, Sophie rushes over with the biggest look of joy on her face that Connor thinks he’s ever seen. “Oh my _gosh_ you guys!” she squeals. “I am so happy!”

She rushes towards them and beams at them. Squealing and covering her smile with her hands. Roger, her dad, reaches out to stop her. Except Connor and Asher are already smiling at her. So Roger lifts her up onto his shoulders, and stands behind Connor’s grandpa, and it’s like they’re children with a stuffed animal dangling in their faces. Except it’s Sophie, and she’s so freaking happy, and that look of happiness and joy on her face is really what the season is all about.

The family gets their photos, and then Roger lets Sophie get down, and she runs up to them and hugs their legs. It’s a little awkward, and Connor and Asher still haven’t let go of each other, but they’re caught up in her happiness. “Okay so now you guys just have to kiss and get married, right?” Sophie asks eagerly.

“It’s a lot more than that, sweetie,” Roger says to her. He looks up at them apologetically. 

Asher laughs and jokes, “We’d have to kiss _a lot_ before we could get married.”

Sophie just squeals again, too happy to speak, and Asher laughs as he looks at Connor. Connor rolls his eyes and lets himself smile, even if he’d rather fight his smile, because Asher is ridiculous and something about that is super adorable. It wasn’t until law school that Connor really began to realize that he has a type: _dorks_. And now he can’t even be embarrassed.

“Just one?” Sophie begs. “Please? Pretend there’s mistletoe!”

Roger picks her up again and says, “That’s enough, Sophie. Don’t pressure them.”

Connor and Asher keep looking into each other’s eyes, but they don’t say anything, and they don’t kiss, but there’s a flash of something. Like Connor realizing he wouldn’t much mind kissing Asher in front of everyone. Except he doesn’t know if Asher would want that so he doesn’t act on it.

Now it’s time to set up the final picture, so Connor and Asher stay next to each other and wait to be put where they need to be for the picture. This time Connor is the one standing behind Asher, and they’re off to the side but still in the frame.

It should be weirder, being in all these pictures with Connor’s family, and honestly knowing the kind of guy Connor was, he wouldn’t expect a family like this, either. And Asher sort of hates how much he wishes he had Connor’s life, because growing up his own wasn’t that bad. It was just when all the secrets started coming out that it really started to matter.

And when the final photo is taken and everyone starts dispersing, Asher takes hold of Connor’s hand and pulls him off to the side. “Dude - thanks,” he says, a bit awkward about it.

Connor smiles - like, genuinely smiles, not even fighting it - and says, “Yeah. Of course.”

“Your family is awesome,” Asher adds. “Like, way more awesome than I expected.” Reluctantly, he lets his hand slip out of Connor’s.

“I get that a lot,” Connor says.

Asher opens his mouth to say more, to go on and on about how this is basically the best Christmas he’s ever had, except he stops before he can get the words out, because Connor is laughing. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Connor shakes his head. “Just.. I’m glad you’re happy. I... “ he hesitates, but then confesses, “I want you to be happy.”

Asher’s entire face brightens, and he doesn’t feel the need to say another word now, because he’s totally content. Connor cares, even if he’s bad at showing it sometimes, and this entire trip to Michigan is evidence of it. Not only that, but Asher’s finally gotten to act on some of his less than pure thoughts about his classmate, so it really worked out, and the day isn’t even done yet.

“Come on. Presents are next and I want dibs on my favorite couch,” Connor says, gesturing behind him.

He disappears before Asher can say another word and he follows Connor over to a worn out looking loveseat by the Christmas tree. “This is my spot. Unofficially. But when I’m home everyone always leaves it for me,” Connor says. “I know it looks gross,” (and it does, because it’s covered in various stains that Asher can’t identify) “But it’s super comfortable.”

Connor plops down on it and leans back against the cushions. He absolutely melts into it. He pats the cushion next to him, urging Asher to sit down with him. So he does. “Oh my god dude you were not kidding,” Asher says, closing his eyes.

The cushions are plush and comfortable and Asher doesn’t even care about the weird brown stain on the armrest or the fact that it’s a pretty small piece of furniture because it’s _so comfortable_. “This is amazing. We need to steal it,” Asher says, adjusting himself so he’s comfortable, with an arm propped up on the back of the sofa.

“We?” Connor asks, eyebrow raised.

“Well yeah. Like, at the end of this semester my RA thing is up, and you need a place anyway, so why don’t we just like, get our own apartment?” Asher suggests, like it’s no big deal.

Gemma’s eyeing them, a smile on her face, as she sits down on the sofa next to theirs. “Making plans to move in together?” she asks, her eyebrow raised.

“Only if we can steal this couch,” Asher replies, like what Gemma is assuming is no big deal.

“Cute,” she replies. “And yes, please take this couch. It’s gross and mom only keeps it around because she promised Connor she would. 

Asher smiles smugly at Connor, who yet again is rendered speechless by the fact that either Asher is totally oblivious, or he’s way more into him than he’d expected. It’s still blowing Connor’s mind that Asher isn’t freaking out about it all.

Hayden, Sophie, and a few other younger cousins hand out the gifts to everyone, and Asher’s a little surprised to see not one but two gifts with his name on them. One is from Connor, and the other is from Sophie. “I thought your cousin was my Christmas gift?” Asher asked, pointing to the one on his lap from Connor.

“Nah,” Connor replies.

“But I didn’t get you anything,” Asher replies dumbly. He hates this feeling of not being able to give a gift in return. He doesn’t really have the spare cash for that right now even with how well it pays working for Annalise. He has to save because he doesn’t know how long that job will last now that she’s behind bars.

“So give me something tonight,” Connor whispers. He adds a wink for effect, and Asher’s cheeks turn red. “I’m kidding,” Connor adds. “You don’t need to get me anything. You saved my ass this Christmas. Thanks to you coming with me, I don’t have to relive all the crap with Ollie over and over again when I explain why he’s not here. People are distracted by you. Which means I’m not sad. So really, that’s gift enough.”

Asher studies Connor for a moment. He hadn’t realized that. Aside from the few questions from his immediate family, Connor hadn’t heard much of anything about Oliver all day. And Asher has seen how much that affects Connor, how sad and upset it makes him. Keeping Connor from being that sad and lonely… well, it makes him feel good, knowing he’s that guy.

The room erupts in a mess of ripping wrapping paper and crinkling tissue paper. Connor goes for it right away, pleased to find some gift cards, a new desk speaker (not like he’ll have time to use it), a new leather book bag, and a handmade Christmas ornament from Sophie.

Asher takes his time, and mostly watches Connor, his arm still resting on the back of the couch behind him, like he’s holding him, but he’s not. “Your turn,” Connor says when he notices that Asher hasn’t opened anything.

He glances at Connor, and then back at the gift from him, and takes a deep breath. He has absolutely no idea what to expect. Connor, on the other hand, knows that what he did is stupid. But he thought of it before everything, and he wasn’t going to change his mind because they kissed.

Thankfully everyone seems distracted, because the usual connotation of a gift like this is… intense. Romantic. More than just plain old platonic.

“A watch.”

Asher looks up at Connor, confused.

“Well, you sold that really nice one you got from your dad. To pay for your books for this year. So… I thought you could use a new one,” Connor explains, looking everywhere but into Asher’s eyes. “It’s dumb, I’m sorry.”

“No, dude, I -,” Asher takes a deep breath and nods. “Thanks. It’s great.”

“If you don’t want it, I get it,” Connor tries, giving him an out.

Asher doesn’t bother saying anything. Instead, he slowly takes it out of the box and analyzes it. It’s really nice – not shiny and gold like the one from his dad that he’d pawned off. This one is cooler. Definitely picked out by Connor. It’s made out of wood – something dark, with nice grains that you can see in each watch link – and it’s way cooler than anything else Asher’s ever owned. Gently, he wraps it around his wrist and fastens it. Even against his weird holiday sweater, it looks good. Really good.

“I want it,” Asher says. “Thanks. It’s uh…” he swallows. “It’s really cool.”

Connor can feel his sister’s eyes on them, and he’s pretty sure his mom noticed too, and there’s no way they’d believe that they weren’t dating now. In retrospect, he didn’t really think that gift through too well.

“Not your boyfriend, huh?” Gemma whispers into Connor’s ear from where she’s sitting next to him.

And if Asher heard – well, _when_ Asher heard – it took everything in him to pretend he didn’t. Even if the thought of being some dude’s boyfriend didn’t freak him out anymore.

 

\--

 

The night winds down after that, with some people staying for dessert and others leaving to go back home. Sophie falls asleep against her dad’s shoulder, and Hayden is ready for bed, too. The house is quieting down, and Connor finds himself wishing, for the first time in a while, that Christmas was longer, not shorter.

Gemma and Roger take Hayden and Sophie up to bed, and the night winds down with Connor’s parents telling them that they’re going to bed, too. Cleanup in earnest will happen in the morning, when his mom has energy again.

Connor stands in the kitchen, poking at a bunch of half-empty pie plates. “Your mom said she’d clean up in the morning,” Asher reminds Connor.

But it’s food, and that’s different. Connor smiles and looks down at the pie as he says, “When I was a kid, I used to come down here after everyone went to bed. I’d sneak a piece of pie even after I’d already had the one I was allowed with everyone else.” Connor reaches for one of the red and green paper plates on the counter and cuts himself a slice of cherry pie. “And then I’d clean up. I’d put all the pies in the fridge. It was the only chore I ever did, and my mom didn’t realize it was me for years. Or if she did, she pretended she didn’t. I felt so important.”

Connor points with the fork at the half-empty cherry pie pan, raising an eyebrow. Asher nods and Connor serves him up a slice, too. “I never used to have fun at these things. The family Christmas things,” Connor continues, his voice softer. “And then… today happened.”

Asher stays quiet; he senses that the story isn’t done yet, and he doesn’t feel like interrupting. He likes hearing about Connor’s past. He feels cooler than the rest of the group, because Connor trusts him with this information, and he keeps his past under lock and key, for the most part.

“I was dreading today. Like, before I invited you,” Connor says. “I’d told my family all about Oliver, about how I felt about him and that we were living together, and like… I never told them stuff like that before. And then he bailed and I had to explain to them why it happened. And just like everyone else, they assumed I did something. That the breakup was _my fault_.”

Connor takes a deep breath and reaches into one of the drawers for the tin foil. He starts covering each of the various pies and desserts on the counter as he keeps talking. It’s easier for him to discuss the difficult things when he’s distracted.

“And then like, after I explained it to my mom and Gemma, they told me Ollie wasn’t good for me. Not by the end. There were secrets and lies and we lost trust,” Connor continues. His voice sounds a little strained, but Asher knows not to speak yet, that Connor needs to get this off his chest. “They started telling me that _you_ were good for me. And that they liked you and that I should just… try it. With you. Even when I told them you weren’t gay.”

Asher wants so dearly to interject here, but he bites his tongue. He trusts that Connor listened to him earlier, when he said how he feels about his sexuality, at this point.

“And honestly when we flew out here, I was nervous,” Connor says. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you, because I do, it’s just… I knew how it would look. And I knew what my family would think.” This time Connor pauses, and he even stops moving his hands so he can lean against the counter. He knows he should look at Asher, which is exactly why his eyes are laser-focused on the countertop instead as he says, “And I don’t know if it’s them or just the holidays or what but I’m thinking about what we look like to them, and what everyone here wanted us to be today, and I’m thinking that it wouldn’t suck. That like… it’d be nice.”

Connor looks up at Asher, finally, and meets his gaze. “I’m not saying we have to run out and be boyfriends and have sex and shout it to the world but like…” Connor takes a deep breath. “Something happened this weekend. For me, at least. So… you should know that. I’m developing… feelings. For you.”

Connor trails off awkwardly at the end, because Asher’s got him fixed with a weird sort-of blank gaze and it’s really hard to interpret that. Connor doesn’t know what it means.

Embarrassed, Connor goes back to cleaning up the pies, because clearly either words are failing Asher and he’ll make up for it later, or Connor did exactly what he didn’t want to and fell for the straight guy. Or the maybe-not straight guy who just isn’t into Connor. Either way, it’s not good.

His hands fumble a little and the knot in his stomach tells Connor to forget that piece of pie, because it won’t sit well now that he’s all upset and freaked out. Connor almost drops one of the pies before Asher steps in. Asher takes the pie and puts it on the counter, and then turns back to face Connor. “Come on,” he says, reaching down and taking hold of his hand to lead him out of the room. 

Asher walks slowly, around the bags of torn-up wrapping paper and piles of gifts for Hayden and Sophie to take home with them tomorrow. He walks through the family room, through the French doors and into the sitting room where they’d been earlier, curled up on Connor’s favorite sofa, by the fireplace all decked out in Christmas decorations. And the whole time, he never lets go of Connor’s hand. 

He smiles, glad to see that there are still a few sparks left in the fire. Asher adds a few more pieces of wood and then sits down on Connor’s favorite couch. Connor’s watching him like he grew a third head. “Come on, dude. Sit down,” Asher says, patting the cushion next to him.

Connor looks around at the still, dark house, and then sits down next to Asher. He’s got his arms crossed in front of his chest and he’s avoiding Asher’s eyes. It feels like he put himself out there and got no response. He’s not even entirely sure Asher heard him.

“I’m not good at this,” Asher says. “The dating thing in general, not like, dudes specifically. But that’s sort of like, an extension of it.” He takes a deep breath. “Something happened for me too, while I was here, so you’re not the only one. I just don’t know how much you’re cool with me doing, or like, where my line is? Because it’s all super freaking new to me.”

“I guess I’m just confused,” Connor interjects. “You’ve said ever since I met you that you’re straight and now this?”

Asher sighs. “I only ever dated women yeah, but I kept asking you stuff. Trying to figure it out. And I feel like I have to point out here that any time I’d offer you’d say I’m not your type or that you weren’t interested in me. Remember when you called me a _meatloaf_? So it’s not like I had much of a chance before now.”

“Are you mad about that?”

“Only if all of that is going to be your reason why you don’t think we should do this.”

“Do what?”

Asher stares blankly for a minute. “Try this. Date.”

Connor takes a deep breath. It feels like Asher is his rebound, but he’s not because Oliver broke up with him months ago. And the sting is still there. But Asher’s also there, and he knows what Connor’s been through, both in his love life and in everything else. And Asher’s honestly a good guy, just a total dork.

“You can say no,” Asher offers, though he secretly hopes he won’t.

“No. 

Asher looks down at his lap, frowning. He wasn't expecting Connor to shoot him down so easily.

“I mean -,” Connor continues. “No, I won’t say no. Like – yes. We can go on a date. And just -,”

“Take it slow,” Asher finishes for him. “Please.”

Connor licks his lips and admits, “That might be hard for me.”

Asher laughs and shakes his head. That answer doesn’t surprise him at all. Genuinely, he’s glad that Connor seems to want to give this a try. Asher has no idea what’s going to come of all of this but he’s glad to see a smile back on Connor’s face, and it makes him feel better too, knowing that he’s got at least one person in his life willing to support him and look out for him and make sure he’s not too lonely.

Connor shifts, draping an arm around Asher’s shoulders, and he smiles as he says, “Okay, enough waiting. Get over here.”

Asher leans in and before he can really think about it, they’re kissing. It’s dark, the only light coming from the now warm, crackling fire in the fireplace. It’s every romance novel cliché and Asher knows it, but he loves it. Like, really loves it.

 

\--

 

Asher’s lips are red and puffy by the time they separate and look into each other’s eyes again. It feels really intense and Asher doesn’t remember letting himself be this vulnerable in a long time. “We should uh… clean up,” Connor says, but makes no move to get off the couch.

Connor licks his lips and Asher says, “The faster we do it the faster we can go upstairs.”

Connor laughs and stands up, leaving Asher to shiver now that he’s not wrapped up in Connor. It’s weird, being so dependent on the other for happiness, but that’s how Asher feels now. He’s found that tiny bit of happiness in the mess of the hell they created for themselves after starting their jobs at Annalise’s private practice. He needs this. Connor does too. They put the pies in the fridge, perching them precariously on the piles of containers of leftovers already shoved in there 

“Hurry up,” Asher whines as Connor tries to put the last pie in.

“Someone’s impatient,” Connor laughs.

He turns around and picks up the two pieces of pie that he’d set out for them. Asher’s too eager, and when Connor holds a plate out to him, Asher just covers it with foil. “Come on,” Asher laughs. “We can eat these later.”

Connor wants to make a sarcastic comment, but he just ends up laughing and grabbing at Asher’s hips. “Go,” he urges, “Upstairs! Now.” He laughs, and Asher happily goes up the stairs. “Don’t wake the kids!” Connor hisses as he switches off the lights and follows Asher.

Again, that sounds super domestic to Connor, but he sort of likes it. Asher keeps walking until he reaches the doorway to Connor’s room. Then he turns around and faces Connor, smirking, arms bracing the doorway.

Connor, still about ten feet down the hallway, smirks right back. He knows what Asher’s playing at. He slows down, taking each step painfully slow. Asher holds strong though, and waits until Connor is standing toe to toe with him.

It’s still so weird to Connor, to consider that this is his life now. That he did the dating thing right and had his heart broken and now he’s willing to try again. With a total dork like Asher, no less. But see that’s the thing – maybe Connor’s attracted to the dorks because he thinks they’re less likely to hurt him. That they are too good and too nice to break his heart, even if Oliver already did. And even though Asher’s a dork who makes weird faces and talks like a bro, he’s a good guy. A really good guy. And he’s looking at Connor like he’s the only person on earth. 

Too impatient to wait any longer, Connor reaches up, hands on Asher’s cheeks, and kisses him. It’s natural now, and heated, and he doesn’t even need to think twice before doing something like this. There will be repercussions when they go back to Philadelphia, he knows, but this is their last night together in Michigan with no worries and no cares and… Connor needs this. He needs to let go and relax and just enjoy. And Asher needs to do the same.

Asher’s hands fall to Connor’s waist, fists grabbing hold of Connor’s sweater – the stupid, ugly Christmas sweater that he wore for the family pictures. The pictures Asher was a part of. He still can’t wrap his head around that.

Connor senses where this is going, so he gently pushes at Asher, leading him out of a doorway so he can kick the door shut behind them, giving them privacy. “Dude,” Asher whispers as he leans back to take a breath.

Asher fumbles, but lifts at the hem of Connor’s sweater until it comes up and over his head. His hands slide over Connor’s chest, and he’s never touched a guy like this before, but he’s not even thinking about that. He just keeps thinking about Connor, and how warm he is. How good this feels. 

Connor lifts Asher’s sweater up and over his head too, and laughs when Asher’s hair becomes a total mess. “Nice,” Connor says, sweeping it out of Asher’s face.

“Hey, yours is a mess too, dude,” Asher replies. 

“What, would you prefer if I take a shower?” Connor laughs.

“Only if I can come with you. You know. Save water.”

Connor snorts. “Save that for after,” he says, like a promise.

 Connor takes hold of Asher’s hips and kisses him again, leading them towards the bed. Asher’s hands grab Connor’s biceps so he doesn’t trip, and he moves backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Still wrapped up in kissing Connor, Asher sits down on the bed and lays back, Connor straddling him and leaning over him.

He kisses Asher, tongue tracing over his lower lip. Asher combs his hand up into Connor’s hair and pulls him closer. Connor leans away to take a breath, to look into Asher’s eyes to be sure this is still good with him, that he hasn’t crossed a line.

Asher doesn’t say anything, but the way he pulls Connor in for more certainly says enough. Connor rolls his hips down against Asher’s and trails kisses along his jaw and down his neck, stealing the breath right out of his lungs.

As badly as Connor wants to get laid, he doesn’t push for that because – well – meaningless sex isn’t really his thing anymore. It’s a thing that he did to get revenge and it didn’t feel good. Which. Ollie totally ruined that for him because now all Connor wants is sex that _means_ something. And Connor’s pretty sure he and Asher could get there one day as long as he takes it slow now. It’ll pay off. Even if it’ll be really difficult to reign it in.

But there are plenty of other things he can do – things he’s sure Asher’s going to like – and he decides to give that a try instead. Especially since Asher’s already got his fingers tangled in Connor’s hair. Smirking between kisses, Connor keeps dragging his mouth lower and lower, trailing warm, hot kisses down Asher’s neck and chest.

Asher’s mind totally goes blank as Connor grazes his lips lower and lower, deft fingers teasing one of his nipples gently as his mouth moves dangerously close to where Asher’s tented in his pants. He’s hard – he never in his life thought he’d get this turned on by a man, especially Connor – but here he is. And he _loves_ it. His heart is pounding and sure, he’s sort of nervous, and in the back of his head there’s a little voice reminding him that he’s in Connor’s childhood bed and his parents are right downstairs and can probably hear them. Except none of that matters, especially as Asher hears the buckle on his jeans and feels Connor let go of his chest in favor of dragging his jeans slowly down his legs.

Asher takes that moment to open his eyes and glance at Connor. Connor’s standing at the foot of the bed, just as hard as Asher, cheeks flushed and eyes dark. “Is this -?” Connor asks.

A bit dumbstruck, and his mouth dropped open as he takes bigger gulps of air, Asher nods. He swallows, licks his lips, and looks up at Connor. “Yeah, it’s good. I’m good. Promise.”

Smirking, pleased with the answer, Connor lowers down to his knees, foregoing anything he may want in favor of spreading Asher’s legs and leaning in, letting his hot breath puff out over where Asher’s hard in his underwear. “You’re such a tease,” Asher says, his voice tight and tense like he’s trying to keep his composure.

Connor glances up through long eyelashes with a mischievous look on his face. “This is going to be _so_ worth it,” he promises.

And god, does he follow through on that promise. If kissing Connor was mind blowing, Asher learns very quickly that that’s nothing compared to what Connor can do with his mouth when he’s blowing someone. Asher chokes on every word that tries to escape him, and all he can do is slide his fingers through Connor’s hair, his toes curling and his fingers shaking as he tries to stave off an embarrassingly early orgasm.

Connor pulls away with a pop, sensing what Asher’s trying to do – or what he’s trying _not_ to do, more like – and smirks. Asher’s eyes are heavy-lidded and he’s biting his lips, just making them redder. “You can come, you know,” Connor says. “I’m not going to judge you. Guys can’t usually handle much of this anyway.”

“Yeah, but just -,” Asher stammers. He swallows hard and tries to keep one last little modicum of composure as Connor strokes him loosely, so slowly it almost hurts.

“I’m not like the girls you’ve been with,” Connor says. “I’ll swallow.”

Asher closes his eyes and his head tips back. “God, dude, don’t _say_ that,” Asher mutters. If Connor means it, then Asher’s screwed, because he’s always thought that was ridiculously hot – not that he’d admit it – and now that he knows, it makes it even hotter.

“I like it,” Connor adds, scratching his fingernails down Asher’s thighs.

Asher shudders and looks back down at Connor, both hands grabbing at his hair. Connor does his very best to keep his eyes locked on Asher’s as he leans in and takes the tip into his mouth. Just like before, Asher chokes on his words. His grip tightens, and he shudders, and it’s embarrassing how easy it was for Connor to turn him on and break him down like this, but… _god_ it’s so good.

A soft, low moan escapes Asher’s swollen lips as he fills Connor’s mouth. Connor, as promised, swallows it all down. The bastard even has the audacity to wait until Asher opens his eyes to dart his tongue out and lick up the few drops that ended up on his lips. “Connor -,” Asher breathes. His chest is heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and he knows that Connor still hasn’t had his turn, and that’s not fair.

“You like?” Connor grins, eyebrow raised.

“God yeah,” Asher replies, a smile growing on his lips as well. “Come on. Get up here.”

Connor laughs and shakes his head. “You won’t like the taste. I should like… brush my teeth first.” He stands up and turns, even though he’s clearly hard and ready to get off, too.

“No.”

Connor pauses and glances over his shoulder at Asher. “Look – maybe that’s what other people want you to do but I’m my own person and I want to figure out for myself what I like and don’t like when it comes to dudes,” Asher says. “So get back on this bed, okay?" 

Eyebrow raised, Connor asks, “You sure?”

“Yes. God. I already feel like a jerk for making you wait so long for your turn. Get over here,” Asher says, scooting up the bed.

He also feels weird being the only naked one in the room, but he keeps that to himself. Connor will be naked too, soon enough. Asher hopes, at least. Slowly, Connor walks back to the bed. He stands at the foot of the bed and unbuckles his belt. He slides his jeans down his legs and kicks them to the side before kneeling on the bed and crawling up towards Asher.

Asher reaches out and pulls Connor to him, hand at the back of his head like he’s done so many times now, when they’ve kissed. He likes it, holding Connor, being gentle with him. The taste on Connor’s tongue is weird – a bit salty, but Asher has heard as much from girls who tell him why they don’t like it – but Connor still tastes like Connor. Hints of coffee, some cherry from when he’d licked the fork after getting himself that secret slice at the end of the night. And it’s nice, kissing Connor, even after he swallowed. Connor was so wrong about Asher not liking it. In fact, to prove that he was wrong, Asher doesn’t stop. He deepens the kiss, taking his time to graze his tongue over Connor’s lip and memorizing each and every thing that draws little gasps and moans out of Connor.

And Connor – well, he’s really not sure how to process how good Asher is at this. The guy has always seemed so dorky and a little unfortunate when it came to dating, so how is he so good at making out?

Connor sits down on the bed next to Asher, turned to face him, curled up a little. Asher guides him, gets him to lay back and relax, and then pulls away to take a breath. He wants to do this right. To make this good for Connor, even if there’s no way he’s going to make it as good as what Connor did to him. That takes years of practice, and Asher’s not sure he’ll ever be that good with his tongue. Or even be able to give a blow job without choking. He’s just pretty sure that now’s not the time to test that out, when people could hear him.

Connor looks up into Asher’s eyes and takes a breath, studying him, letting the silence surround them. What made them feel super awkward a few days ago feels normal now. And his heart is only racing because they’re about to do something new, and he doesn’t want to screw this up. Connor’s screwed up enough in his life. He’s sick of it. Being here with Asher, spending the holidays with him and sharing so many private things with him – it motivates Connor, makes him want to be serious, to shed all that awful stuff they’ve both done and just forge ahead and try to make the best of what they still have.

Without breaking eye contact, Connor slides his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and pushes them down his legs, kicking them off the bed and onto the floor with the rest of their clothes. Asher keeps his eyes locked on Connor, who raises his eyebrows a little in question – _Are you going to look?_

It’s not like Asher hasn’t seen a guy naked before, but this is an entirely different situation that he’s definitely never been in. He licks his lips and lets his eyes dart down to look. Connor is a handsome man – toned chest and arms, nice legs – and well, he’s good looking pretty much everywhere, which is totally unfair. _Way_ totally unfair, if you ask Asher. And seeing the effect he can have on Connor? That’s a lot for Asher. But he likes it.

When he looks back up at Connor’s eyes, he can see the slight vulnerability behind his gaze, the way he’s worrying a little. Connor worries a lot, Asher realizes. Slowly, he leans in for a kiss. He wants to say something but knows that no matter what he says, it’ll be cheesy and open him up to taunting later. Besides – he doesn’t want to ruin the moment by speaking. Asher has learned lately that it’s sometimes better to just keep your mouth shut and use actions instead of words.

So he kisses Connor slowly, tenderly, and lays down on the bed next to him. Asher’s heart is racing, being in bed with another guy, totally naked and kissing him and touching him, but he likes it. It’s exactly like he’d imagined, but way better.

Ever so slowly, Asher slides his hand down Connor’s abs – he _had_ to feel them, he’s only human after all – and lavishes in the sound of Connor’s sigh when his hand finally reaches where Connor needs it most. Asher’s grip is loose and a bit hesitant as he strokes one, two, three times, and it’s dry and he doesn’t want to hurt Connor. So, he pulls away from the kiss and leans down. He’s not ready for _that_ yet, but this is a close second. He lets a string of spit fall from his lips, right to the tip, and Connor shudders at the feeling.

Asher strokes him again, using the spit and bit of precome to lube up his grip, and that makes it way better, for Asher but especially for Connor. 

Asher totally appreciates the way Connor isn’t making this a huge thing, or isn’t acting or looking the slightest bit disappointed that he’s back to a high-school like way of getting off with someone. Hand jobs aren’t exactly what all the adults are doing these days. Not when there are way better things to be doing. But Connor’s sweet, letting Asher take his time, and Asher is determined to make it as good as he possibly can.

He leans in for another kiss, but Connor’s mouth is dropped open, little gasps escaping when Asher twists his wrist just so, so he decides instead to kiss Connor’s neck. He finds a sweet spot right by his collarbone, and inside Asher does a little dance because he’s _so glad_ Connor seems to be liking this. He stays with that sensitive spot, grazing his teeth a little and sucking gently, trying not to leave a mark – or too much of a mark, anyway. “Jesus,” Connor mutters, his breathing becoming more labored as Asher touches him and teases him. 

Asher realizes in that moment that he’s not freaking out. That he doesn’t want to freak out. That all those times he’s thought about doing something like this, they’ve all compared to the real thing. And he’s glad that Connor’s there for him, and letting him take it slow, but at the same time Asher finds that with each new thing he does, he’s curious about more, about what else there is.

He sees the way Connor’s breathing is heavier, the way his muscles tense up, so he moves his hand a little faster and drags his lips along Connor’s neck, and up to his lips to kiss him full-on again. Connor moans into Asher’s mouth and in seconds Asher can feel warmth spilling over his hands as Connor comes, totally unabashedly, right there under Asher’s touch.

As he comes down from it, Connor kisses Asher, sweet and slow, so lazy but so content at the same time. Asher’s hand is a mess and he lets go of Connor when he hisses, oversensitive now that he came. Slowly and quite reluctantly, Asher peels himself away from Connor to grab a tissue and clean off his hand. Connor cleans himself off too, and the moment feels different now. Not weird, but not calm and settled. Not like when they’ve fooled around with other people. It’s full of uncertainty, of what to say next.

Except when they curl up under the blankets, still naked, it’s not weird. Asher just rolls towards Connor like it’s nothing, and Connor uses Asher’s shoulder as a pillow. “Was that – alright?” Asher asks, his voice a soft, slightly-nervous whisper.

“Shut up, it was good,” Connor replies. “Really good." 

Asher looks down at Connor, who’s already gazing up at him. “You sure?” Asher asks.

Connor doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he plants a warm, lingering kiss on Asher’s mouth and says, “Get some sleep. Tomorrow we have to deal with TSA and hope that we don’t get delayed too badly. There’s a blizzard coming this way and we might barely make it out." 

Asher chuckles. “I wouldn’t mind getting stranded here in a blizzard.”

Connor lays his head back on Asher’s shoulder and sighs. “Yeah, I know. Me either.”

The room is quiet for a moment before Asher considers it and asks, “Do we _have_ to go back to Philadelphia tomorrow?”

It shouldn’t even be a question – they both didn’t want to be away from work too long just in case something happened with Wes or Annalise – but now that they’re in Michigan, in their own private little world where they can be themselves, be happy, not worry about all the bad things they’ve done, they don’t want to leave. And who could blame them, really?

Connor smiles and says, “I could push our flights a few days.”

“You sure your mom wouldn’t mind?” Asher wonders. He doesn’t want to overstay his welcome, after all.

That draws a laugh out of Connor, hearty and warm. “I’m positive. She loves you.”

“Sweet!” Asher grins, looking rather proud of himself.

Connor, like he does so often when he’s around Asher, rolls his eyes. Only this time, he’s smiling, and he’s not holding back. He can’t believe he’s into this dork. Seriously.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! You can find me over on tumblr @ tiffinities.


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